Sheltered From Pursuit
by miserableyouth
Summary: What do you do when your home is threatened and is no longer safe? You only have one option: find another home. Brittany and Santana fight to survive and find a home in each other.
1. Rations

**Rations**

She squeezed the handlebar tightly as she peddled faster along the side walk She could feel the grooves of the rubber handlebar grips digging into her palm and took satisfaction in knowing that when she could finally take her hands off, she'd find extra lines on her hands in addition to those that permanently existed there. Some say the lines on your palm map out your future, your destiny, your fate, but what about the lines she had formed just within the last twenty minutes, the lines which would fade faster than they had appeared? Those lines caused her hands to be bumpy and uneven now, but once she reached home and stored her bicycle in the safety of her garage, they had smoothed out, just as they were before.

She took out a package from the basket hanging at the front of her bicycle and entered her house. As soon as the front door closed with a quiet click, her mother came bustling towards her, one arm outstretched and one arm on her chest, as if to quell the fluttering of her heart.

"Oh Brittany, you're home!" With her outstretched arm, she held onto Brittany's cheek and her eyes roamed her daughter's body, looking out for any disturbances.

"Mom, stop it, I'm fine. I was only gone for twenty minutes, I've gone down to the community center plenty of times," Brittany reassured her mother. Her mother's hand felt cold on her cheek, but she was unsure if it was because she was warm from cycling, or if it was actually her mother's body temperature. She took her mother's hand from her cheek and enveloped it in her own. She gave her mother a small smile, encouraging her to do the same. In return, Brittany received a slight twitch in the corner of her mother's mouth. It was nothing like how she used to smile, but at least she tried. It seems like that was all they could do these days.

"Well, those other times were under different circumstances, weren't they?" A small silence passed between the pair. The other times were definitely different, there was no denying.

Her mother spotted the package tucked under Brittany's arm and immediately took it from her. She lifted it up to examine it. She turned it to the left, to the right and examined the underside of the brown package. Her eyebrows knotted in confusion and what seemed like a sliver of disappointment.

"That's all they gave me Mom. Apparently that's all you get for two adults and two children," Brittany explained.

"You should have said three adults. You could pass as an adult. You look close enough to 18, you're only two years away."

"They have all our profiles on the database Mom, I can't lie to them."

Brittany's mother nodded in defeat. "Oh well, let's see what we got then." She turned around and headed for the kitchen with Brittany following closely behind.

The kitchen was dim, and nobody reached for the light switch. Usually, the kitchen would be flooded by sunlight streaming from the window above the kitchen sink, but the curtain had been drawn and untouched for a while now. All the curtains were the shut in the Pierce house. As were all the curtains in all the houses in the area. Having open curtains wasn't a safe practice these days.

"Where's Abby?" Brittany asked her mom. Brittany's used to having her sister running around the house, but today the house was eerily quiet.

"She's just having a nap," her mom answered as she approached the kitchen bench. Usually on a day like today, her sister would be spending her afternoon at a friend's house, but visiting each other's houses is a thing of the past. It just isn't safe any more.

The package was placed tentatively onto the kitchen bench top, and Brittany's mother stepped back. They both stared at the package, unsure about what they should do next. They had never received a package like this before, but they were not the only naïve ones. Every family in the area had received more or less of the same package, depending on their needs, for the first time in their lives.

After what seemed like an eternity, Brittany reached out for the package, and carefully unwrapped the contents. Brittany wasn't really sure why she was suddenly being extremely careful in unwrapping the package. When she was younger, tearing the wrapping paper off any gifts was the best part about receiving presents. When she saw any of her friends trying to salvage wrapping paper, Brittany would whine and complain and encourage them to 'just go crazy'. There was something satisfying about hearing the tearing and scrunching of paper. It might also have had something to do with Brittany and her sister shredding paper into little pieces and pretending that it was multicolored snow. That was until her mother would yell at them and tell them to clean up their mess. That was one of the downsides of fake-multicolored-paper-snow. It didn't melt away like real snow. It also didn't taste very nice on her tongue, but that was a whole other issue.

As she directed all her concentration on trying to unwrap the package without ripping the paper, she couldn't tell whether the gasp she heard had come from her mother or escaped from her own mouth. Regardless of the origin of the sound, they both quickly soaked up the contents of the package.

_A tub of rice._

_A packet of sugar._

_A packet of salt._

_A bag of flour._

_Batteries._

_A small first aid box._

_Matches._

_Pamphlets._

"O.K." That was all that Brittany could really manage to say. She didn't know the proper response to receiving an assistance package from the government during a war. Was she supposed to be grateful that the government was doing their best to aid its citizens, or disappointed that they had received barely anything?

"I guess these are the rations we get for now," Brittany's mom said. "It's alright, we'll get more next time."

Rations. The word sounded weird in Brittany's head, let alone coming from her own mother's mouth. When had it come to this? The war had started months ago. Everyone knew it was coming, giving enough time necessary for preparation, yet when it finally did arrive, no one was ready. How did one prepare for the war?

They were faring well during the initial period. They were told that it would be a short affair, that there was nothing to fear. _Have confidence in your troops! We are the most powerful nation in the world! Together we stand as one!_ Brittany cannot, for the life of her, pin point the exact moment when everything went downhill. It crept up gradually, like a cloud slowly covering up the sun, dimming the light, and nobody notices until that one person points it out. All Brittany remembers was that the nightly news updates started reporting an increasing number of soldier deaths and that the president's face was a regular image on her television screen. But the same message was being sent to them: _We will win this war at any cost! _

It saddened Brittany to hear such words being thrown around. What was an acceptable cost for a war? What was the cost of a life? What was the cost of a broken family, with a gaping soldier-shaped hole? Could any wars be considered cheap? You'd never see a war go on sale, that was for sure.

It was only a month ago where it was announced that their country was low on supplies, though Brittany is sure that their problems had started ever since the war began and no one had told them; not everybody likes hearing the truth, and nobody likes being the barer of bad news. Most of their efforts had been sent with the soldiers, whether that meant people, supplies or food. Now they had been given rations for the supplies that were on shortage. At the moment, the shortage list was small, but Brittany is sure it will grow, even if in just a couple of days.

"At least your father has been stocking up on food. Such a clever man," her mother says. It's a pitiful consolation, but it's the only thing that Brittany and her mother can hold on to at this moment in time. Her mother opens up the pantry to store their rations next to the column of tinned and preserved food on the shelves. Brittany picks up the pile of pamphlets and sits down at the kitchen bench. Without even needing to look at them, she's certain that they're about ways to survive the war. A single glance at the covers confirms her suspicions; _HELPINGS FOR HEROES: 101 different ways to cook your rations; Help! A bomb hit my house and my cat is on fire; Spies: They Are ALWAYS Watching You_.

There's a moment of silence as Brittany flicks haphazardly through the pamphlets, and her mom bustles around the kitchen. All she can hear is the ticking of the wall clock, and the clanking of pots and pans, when suddenly the silence is broken by a low rumble. It's faint, but both Brittany and her mother stop what they're doing to listen to the unfamiliar disturbance. There's a series of at least five more deep rumbles, each one getting progressively louder and accentuated by the drowning silence in between. Finally they stop, and Brittany can only hear her heart beat, and her shallow breathing. Her palms are sweating, and gripping tightly to the pamphlet in her hand: _WAR - LOL txt it._

All of a sudden, her front door slams open, and there's frantic shouting. "They're here, Joy, they're here! Get the kids and get in the car. Now!" Her father is yelling at them as he runs into his bedroom, and Brittany turns to her mom. She's expecting her mom to look just as terrified as she feels, but she's proven wrong when no hint of emotion is found on her face.

"Brittany," she says in her most calming voice, "I need you to go to the car. Everything will be OK. I promise." Her mom is looking Brittany straight in the eyes, and it takes every ounce of Brittany's strength to break her stare and nod. She unfreezes and heads out to the car. It's the only thing Brittany feels she is programmed to do. She isn't in control of her own body, and only moves on accord of her mother's directions.

She's only waiting for half a second in car alone, when her father runs out, lugging two giant suitcases with him, which he promptly throws into the trunk of the car. He opens the door to the back seats where Brittany is sitting and throws some old rugs onto the floor of the car. He's about the close the car door, but stops and looks at his eldest daughter. He tucks some loose strands of hair behind her ear and whispers, "You're doing great babygirl. I need you to be brave for me. Can you do that for me?" He's talking to her like she's five, but Brittany doesn't care. Instead she relishes it. It just so happens that Brittany feels like she's five again. She wants so much to break down and cry, and she can feel the tears threatening at the corner of her eyes, but yet again, she feels that she has no control of her body, and nods in response. Small steps.

Her father kisses the top of her head, and runs back into the house, just passing her mom who is holding onto her sister's hand, whose other hand is rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her mother is whispering things and soothing her sister, but Brittany can't hear anything that is being said. She helps Abby into her seat, and does up her seatbelt, even though she's nine, and would usually groan if her mom did such a thing a few months ago. Her mom gets into the front seat of the car, and their father runs back out of the house carrying some backpacks. He jumps into the driver's seat, slams his door shut, and changes the car from 'parked' to 'reverse'.

Brittany takes a glance at her house as they drive away through the empty street, and can't help but wonder when she'll see their picket fence next. Or if there even is a next time.


	2. Running

**Running**

They had been driving around for what felt like hours, but when Brittany checked the time on the dashboard, she discovered that they had only been in the car for half an hour. Everyone was silent in the car. He sister had fallen back asleep, evident by her lulling head. Usually Brittany would have taken a photo to embarrass her, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she carefully lifted her sister's head, and rested it against the car door frame. Her father was at the wheel, his knuckles white from his firm grip. Her mother must have also noticed his knuckles, because she rested her hand against his thigh causing him to relax, even if it was only slightly.

Car rides were generally a noisy affair in the Pierce household. Usually the radio would be blasting, with Brittany and her sister dancing around to whatever song was on the radio. Her mother would join in with the singing, and her father would laugh along at his ridiculous family. In contrast, today's car ride was dead silent, and no eye contact was made between its passengers. Brittany looked out the window, and watched as they passed house upon house. The roads were relatively empty. It seemed that everyone had locked themselves in their houses to protect themselves. Not that the roofs above their heads would prove to be good forms of protection in an air raid.

Brittany's brain was on overdrive. A constant stream of thoughts rolled around in her head and none of them were being fully processed. As soon as she stayed long enough on one thought, it was quickly replaced with another thought. Finally she couldn't handle the mess in her head, and had to break the silence.

"Dad, where are we going?" she asked timidly.

Her question seemed to startle her father, as his eyes shot to look at his daughter through the rear view mirror. His shoulders tensed, as did his knuckles. "Just on a break. We just need to get away for a while."

"John," Brittany's mother whispered softly, "she's sixteen. She's old enough to understand."

What was Brittany old enough to understand? Were her parents hiding information from her? Why did her dad find it necessary to lie to her? Her mother was right. She was definitely old enough to understand.

Her father sighed and took in a deep breath before starting. "The war. You've seen the news. Regardless of what they tell us, it's getting worse."

"Those rumbles we heard earlier..." her mom added, "...let's just say it wasn't someone mowing their lawn."

"Bombs." It slipped out of Brittany's mouth before she could control herself. It wasn't a question.

"Yes. They've started the air raids. People have been talking about it for ages at work. We all knew it was going to happen at some time. Sooner rather than later," her father explained.

It didn't make sense to Brittany though. The war was occurring on the other side of the country, and had been for the last few months. Reports that came their way assured them that the country's soldiers were fighting hard to overcome the invaders and their efforts were succeeding. Her father was right though, you couldn't always trust the media.

"So where are we going?" Brittany asked.

"The air raids were too close to us and it's not safe. We're going to go up into the mountains. We'll stay at your grandparents' old cottage."

Her grandparents, who had passed away a few years ago had left their son, Brittany's father, their house. Brittany's family had turned it into a holiday house, which they had used on various occasion throughout the years.

It felt strange, going up to the mountains, where they would be closer to the airplanes in the sky which were causing the destruction, but it was also the most logical option. The cottage was a well hidden by trees and secluded from civilization. Also, as horrid as it was to think about it, Brittany knew that the invaders weren't dumb enough to waste a bomb on an area where there wouldn't be a lot of people; they'd aim for densely populated areas, which would create a high victim count as a result.

Brittany returned to watching the scenery pass her window. The number of houses that they passed was slowly on the decline, and Brittany was starting to see more trees and underpopulated regions. Brittany wanted to keep an eye out for everything that passed her window; she was unsure how quickly the familiar would become the unfamiliar, but the continual passing of mundane objects coupled with the gentle rocking of the car was hypnotic, and Brittany felt her eyelids slowly becoming heavier and heavier. Her father saw her through the reflection of the rear view mirror, and smiled.

"Go to sleep babygirl. I'll wake you up when we get there. We still have a while."

Brittany shook her head in protest. She didn't want to fall asleep. She needed to stay awake to keep an eye out for any danger. But her protests were made in vain, as she finally succumbed to sleep.

* * *

She felt her body shake before her eyes opened. She blinked, once, twice, to allow her eyes to adjust to the light. It was dimmer than before with the sky tainted a faint orange. Her view of the sky was then hindered by a figure who stood in front of her.

"You awake honey?" her mother said quietly. She patted the top of Brittany's head, smoothing down the fly-away hairs which were bent in awkward angles due to Brittany's sleeping position.

Brittany nodded but then yawned sleepily, causing her mother to chuckle. She wiped the sleep away from her eyes, and her mother reached to wipe away the drool from the right corner of her mouth. Embarrassed, Brittany looked away and observed her surroundings. She was still sitting in the car, but long gone were the suburban houses. They were on a dirt road, surrounded by a sea of trees. The air was cooler here, and all she could hear was her father's gentle voice as he roused her sister awake. She was expecting to see her grandparents' house nearby, but it was nowhere in sight.

"Mom, where are we? Where's the cottage?"

Her mother looked at her father before answering. "We're going on a hike," she answered carefully.

"Where are we hiking to?" Brittany's sister had awoken and seemed to have enough energy for a thousand hikes.

"To the cottage," Brittany's father replied, avoiding eye contact with his daughters. Brittany scrunched her forehead in confusion, and looked at her parents, who were both pretending to be preoccupied.

"To the cottage?" Brittany repeated, "Why are we hiking to the cottage?"

"We're going to leave the car here, and hike the rest of the way to the cottage. It's just a safety precaution," her mother explained.

"Are…are we being followed?" Brittany asked quickly, "Dad, are you a part of the mafia?"

Her father took one glance at his eldest daughter and then burst into laughter. It was the hardest that Brittany had heard her father, or anyone, laugh in such a long time. His belly shook, and tears sprung to his eyes. It caused Brittany to break into a smile so big that it didn't seem to fit her face.

"No babygirl, I'm not a part of the mafia. We just wanted to be cautious about this. If we leave the car here, then no one will know where we've gone. The safety of this family is my top priority, and I'll go to any means to make sure we stay together." He headed to the back of the car and opened up the trunk. He stood there for a moment, surveying the contents with his hands on his hips. "I'll need everyone to carry at least one bag."

Brittany got up from her seat, and stood next to her father. He picked up what seemed like the lightest bag and held it up to Brittany's sister. "Is this alright Abby?"

She fed her arms through the straps of the backpack and hoisted it onto her shoulders. She turned back around to face her father and nodded.

Her father then lifted the smallest suitcase from the trunk and placed into onto the floor in front of Brittany. He then grabbed another backpack and put it on top of the suitcase. "Do you think you can handle both of them, Brittany?"

Brittany nodded in reply and put on the backpack. In all honesty, the backpack was quite heavy and some of the bag's contents poked uncomfortably into her back, but she didn't say anything. She pulled up the retractable handle of the suitcase and looked back at her family. Her mother also carried a backpack and had a suitcase by her side. Her father's luggage was left on the floor, as he closed the door of the trunk and climbed back into the driver's seat of the car. The rumble of the car's engine cut through the silence, as her father drove the car deeper into the trees, away from the clearing and out of view. Moment later, he returned and lifted his bag onto his back. "Let's go," he said before heading into the thick of the trees.

* * *

The Pierce family walked in silence. Brittany's father was leading, followed by Brittany's mother and sister, and Brittany bringing up the behind. The backpack was getting progressively heavier, and the suitcase didn't travel smoothly over rocks and tree roots. Abby stopped and reached down to pick up a long stick, about the same height as her. "Mom, I have a hiking stick," she said brightly. Her mom smiled down at her, and placed her hand lightly on the girl's shoulders.

Brittany allowed her mind to replay the events of the past few hours. It felt like months ago that she had returned home from receiving a rations package from the community center. In only the span of a couple of hours, she was whisked away in a car and now found herself away from what was the safety of her own home, and hiking up a mountain with an awkward suitcase in tow.

"How did you pack so quickly?" Brittany asked her parents.

"We've had these suitcases packed for a while now."

"We had an inkling this might happen. As I said before, people have been talking about this for ages at work, and it was best that we were prepared," her father added.

Brittany nodded and looked down at her feet. Her breath was becoming more labored and she could feel her shirt sticking to her back. She jumped up to allow the backpack to fall back onto the tops of her shoulders where they met her neck. She lifted her top and used it to wipe her brow from sweat.

Brittany felt like her brain was buzzing with more questions, but she didn't dare to ask any of them. Was she afraid that someone would hear and then capture them, or was her tongue just stuck, preventing her from forming any words or coherent sounds?

They continued on their hike mostly in silence. Her parents shared a private conversation together while Abby used her hiking stick to hit dandelions along their path, causing most of their seeds to scatter into the surrounding area. A lucky few escaped, carried off by the gentle breeze. Brittany watched the seeds being dispersed into the wind, and some landed on her shoelaces. She wanted to bend over to brush off the seeds, but was afraid that she would topple over from the weight of the bag on her back.

"Mo-om, I'm tired," Abby whined loudly. She threw her stick onto the ground, and shrugged her backpack off. She kicked some dirt, and looked like she was considering planting herself on the floor but couldn't find a suitable spot. Instead she crossed her arms and pouted. Brittany walked up to her sister and for a moment wanted to join her. Why were they hiking to the middle of nowhere? Why did they run away from their house? They weren't being personally targeted. Her father just barged into their house and yelled at them to get into the car. The war wasn't anything to be afraid of. So what if bombs were going off. It's not like they were ever going to be hit.

But Brittany knew she couldn't join her sister in their frustrations. She had to keep it together, for her sister's sake, for her parents' sake, and for her own sake. So she picked up her sister's bag and put it on top of her suitcase, securing it by tying the straps to the handle of the suitcase.

"I know Abby. We all are. Trust me," Brittany said bluntly to her sister. She looked into Abby's eyes, and could see tears starting to form at the corners. Alongside the fatigue and frustration in the seven year old's face, she could see the confusion and the sheer innocence in her features. As much as Brittany felt lost, it must have been nothing compared to how Abby felt. The poor girl was fast asleep when everything transpired mere hours ago. "Come on, we're nearly there," Brittany reassured her.

Brittany's mom walked up to the pair and handed over a drink bottle to Abby. Abby grabbed the bottle and hungrily gulped several mouthfuls of water. "Slow down honey, we need to share this between the four of us." Abby then sheepishly passed the bottle to Brittany, who took some small sips of water after hearing what her mother had to say. "Brittany," her mother said, "in the front pocket of my backpack, there should be some snacks." Brittany reached into her mother's bag and pulled out some granola bars. She passed them out to her family, and they munched on them silently as their rested their legs. Brittany took the time to look at their surroundings. All around them were trees, their branches grasping at the sky. The ground below was littered with bark and leaves which had fallen from the trees, scattered among patches of grass and gravel. On Brittany's right, she spotted a single blue feather at the base of one of the largest trees in the immediate area. Her eyes followed the trunk of the tree, and sure enough her eyes caught an empty nest wedged between a branch and the trunk. Brittany picked up the feather and brought it closer to her face. The vibrant sky blue color of the feather caused it to stand out. It had distinct black stripes running horizontally with a white tip painted onto the tip of the feather. She handed the feather to her sister, who looked up at Brittany speechlessly. She pocketed the feather and smiled in reply.

Their peace was broken by some growling which was growing increasingly louder. "Hide under the trees! Cover your heads!" her father hissed quickly. Brittany ran straight to the nearest tree and curled herself into a ball, using her arms to wrap around her head. The sounds became louder before they decreased in volume. She lowered her arms from her head and garnered herself a peek. Overhead, she saw two small planes flying off into the distance leaving a dirty, grey trail of smog behind. Once the coast was clear, Brittany's dad cautiously crawled out of his hiding spot.

"Did they see us Dad?" Brittany whispered, afraid that the wind would catch her voice and transport it all the way to the pilots of the foreign aircraft.

"No, I doubt it," her father replied, eyes locked to the sky. He looked back at his family, shaken from the encounter and fear pouring from their eyes. "Come," he said gently, "it's starting to get dark. We're nearly there." He reached down to pick up Abby's discarded bag, but Brittany picked it up first and shook her head.

"I've got it," she said. Though she never doubted it, she was surprised and incredibly grateful that her father was being so strong. Whether or not it was only a facade Brittany didn't mind. They all needed him. He was their rock. Nevertheless, Brittany knew that he reciprocated the feelings; he needed them, and Brittany was eager to relieve any of her father's stress. She repositioned the backpack on her suitcase, and they continued on their hike.

* * *

The sky was turning a dark shade of violet with a faint streak of crimson orange when they finally heard the rushing of running water. They couldn't see the river, but they knew that it was situated behind the cottage. Hearing the calming noise meant that they were getting closer.

Finally they spotted the wooden, homemade letterbox that Brittany's grandfather had built using fallen logs from around their property. The letterbox marked the beginning of the driveway leading up to the cottage. At last Brittany felt that she could let go of the breath that she didn't know she was holding. She looked at the faces of her family members, and they all seemed to feel the same way. They had reached what could only be described as _safety_; secluded and away from destruction and danger. Memories of visiting her grandparents when she was younger flooded her head, and she actually chanced for a small smile. The smile grew when an overwhelming feeling of relief grew from her core and washed over her body.

As they neared the property, Brittany's mother stopped in her tracks, her arm slung out to prevent anyone from passing. "John, look, the lights," her mother whispered. Brittany looked up towards the house, and saw lights flooding from the windows. Her father turned to his daughters and put his hand on their shoulders. "Girls, go take our bags, and hide over there in the bushes with your mom. I'm going go figure out what's happening."

"No John, I'm coming with you. You're not going in alone," Brittany's mother said. Her father opened his mouth to retort, but after one look at his wife's indignant face, he knew arguing would be redundant. "Girls, do as your father says," Brittany's mother said forcefully, looking straight into each of the girl's eyes. Brittany wanted to cry out. She had no idea what was happening inside the house, but from the feeling she was receiving from the pit of her stomach, she was almost sure it wasn't going to be pleasant. "We'll be fine," her mother assured, "trust us." Brittany didn't know what else to do except nod, and she went to grab the luggage. She stumbled into the bushes with her sister and through the leaves and branches watched her parents tentatively open the front door of the cottage.

"Are they going to die?" Abby asked. Brittany turned her head swiftly to face her sister, her eyes wide in surprise.

"Don't you dare Abigail Pierce. Don't you ever say that again," Brittany scolded in a hushed whisper. She was hurt that Abby would ever go to such a dark place, yet a small part of Brittany knew her sister's concern wasn't unwarranted. Brittany looked back at the cottage, and wished she had x-ray vision. She couldn't see anything that was happening in the house. She couldn't hear anything either, except for her own uneven breaths.

After what felt like hours, Brittany was so close to jumping up and running into the house to figure out what was happening, when suddenly she heard a faint creak. The girls froze in the bushes and Brittany strained her ears to hear any other additional noises. Brittany couldn't see anything, and wasn't sure where the sound had come from. Abby reached over and grasped onto Brittany's hand, squeezing her fingers and holding on tightly.

Brittany heard her before she saw her. From around the corner, a girl, around her age, with thick, dark, wavy hair flowing behind her, ran away from the house, towards Brittany. She took one short glance over her shoulder, as if to make sure that no one was chasing her, and that was the split moment when Brittany's brain flicked into action. She jumped up from her hiding spot and tore through the bushes. She ran straight towards the figure and lunged at the girl, tackling her to the ground. Luckily Brittany was slightly bigger and taller than the stranger and the element of surprise also worked in Brittany's favor. As Brittany wrapped her arms around the girl's waist, the girl turned her head and all she could see was a flurry of blonde hair. She screamed as she fell backwards and landed heavily onto the floor. Brittany straddled her hips and pinned her arms up above her head. The girl squirmed for a heartbeat before giving up. Her eyes were shut tightly and her head was turned to her side, her cheek pressed up against the dirt. "Please don't hurt me," she pleaded. Brittany could hear the defeat in her voice, laced with something greater than just plain fear. The girl was petrified, and her body was shaking underneath Brittany's weight.

Brittany heard another slam, and she looked up to see her parents running out of the cottage. "Brittany!" her parents yelled in unison as they headed towards her. Brittany looked back down at the figure and growled with as much courage as she could muster, "Who are you and what are you doing?"

The girl turned her head to face Brittany and opened her eyelids to reveal eyes several shades darker than her hair. She stared straight into Brittany's own eyes, and Brittany felt like she was being searched.

"My name is Santana Lopez, and I'm running."


	3. Judgement

**Judgement**

Brittany furrowed her brow and looked back at the girl pinned beneath her. She almost relaxed her grip, but decided not to, afraid that she might escape. The girl's eyes were still locked onto Brittany's and she found that she couldn't break the connection. Something about this girl peaked Brittany's curiosity, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She was scared, that much Brittany was sure of. But there was also something else. She had bite. There was a hint of it in her voice, and it was buried deep within her eyes.

Brittany was in the middle of tracing out Santana's features when she was startled by her sister's voice. "What were you doing in our grandparents' cottage?" Brittany turned her head to look at her sister, and saw the little girl standing over her shoulder, holding onto a stick and pointing its tip at Santana's face in the most threatening way a seven year old could muster.

"Lower the stick Abby," Brittany's mother instructed. Brittany noted that her mother didn't, however, ask her to let go of Santana. Abby hesitated, but eventually lowered her weapon of choice. She didn't let it go completely though; she kept it by her side, arm ready to strike at the smallest hint of trouble. "So Santana, what were you doing trespassing into private property?" her mother asked Santana firmly.

Santana winced at the accusation and then looked at each of the Pierces, trying to figure out the best way to word her explanation. "I…I didn't mean any harm. I was running, and I needed a place to stay. I just happened to stumble across the house, and since it didn't look occupied…" Santana's eyes searched the people surrounding her, and finally stopped on Brittany's. It was almost as if she was pleading for understanding and forgiveness.

"How did you get in?" Brittany asked. She wasn't accusing Santana of any wrong-doing. Brittany was curious and genuinely intrigued.

This time Santana avoided everyone's eyes and looked at a wayward leaf with exaggerated interest. She hesitated before answering, unsure of whether she should share this piece of information with a bunch of strangers. She was afraid that it would reveal just a bit too much about her character. "I broke in with a hairpin," she mumbled.

Brittany's eyebrows rose and almost became hidden behind her fringe. There was a slight smirk on her face which caused a feeling of unease in Santana. "You actually know how to do that? You know how to open locks with hairpins?"

"Ah, yeah, I guess I can. But it's not a skill I'm proud of!" she added hastily as she looked at the two adults in the vicinity.

"I'd love to have a skill like that! Do you know how handy that would be?"

Santana was about to offer to teach her, but held her tongue. She had just been caught breaking into their house and offering to teach a shady skill wasn't exactly a great way to paint a great picture of herself. She needed their approval if she was going to escape this unharmed.

"Where are you from Santana?" Joy asked.

"Nearby. Just near the base of the mountain."

"And are your parents around?"

"They're back home." It was the second time during their encounter that Santana chose to avoid eye contact with everyone. Brittany sensed Santana's discomfort at the subject and she narrowed her eyes slightly, hoping to garner more information.

"You're here alone?" Brittany asked quietly.

"Yeah. My dad works at the hospital, and they needed him, especially during times like these. I knew the war was coming closer, and I wasn't going to just sit there and be killed. So I left."

"You left your parents? Aren't you worried for them?"

"Of course I am. But they're at the hospital all day. They're safe. Don't worry, I left them a note."

"Pretty stupid thing to do," Brittany turned to look at her father. She realized that this was the first time that he had spoken during their conversation with their intruder. He stood with his arms crossed and his feet apart, and Brittany was reminded of a defensive animal, standing its ground. His face was unreadable. She had never seen her father like this before and it scared her.

Santana looked up at the man and knotted her eyebrows. "You know nothing about my life, so you can't tell me what's stupid," she snarled. She tried to stand up, but Brittany continued to pin her down. The best she could do was stomp her leg awkwardly, causing the leaves on the ground to rustle. It didn't seem as menacing as she had hoped, and Brittany just shifted her weight on top of Santana. Santana felt quite pitiful, but her face remained cold.

"You ran away from your parents, only leaving them a note, and you've broken into private property only to be caught. Apparently you're the one who can tell me a lot about stupidity." Brittany's father stepped closer to Santana until his head was directly above hers. He looked straight down at her with his arms now on his hips.

Santana opened her mouth to retort, but Brittany's mother interrupted. "John," she said calmly to her husband, "I'm sure Santana knows what she's done is wrong."

"Good. Then she'll understand when I send her to the police," Brittany's father threatened.

"No!" Brittany said with a raised voice, "she was only doing what she thought was best for her. She didn't mean any harm. Besides, there aren't any police around this area, and it's not safe anymore."

"Then what do you recommend we do Brittany?"

"She stays with us. She'll be safe with us," Brittany said defiantly. She looked at Santana and noticed that her eyes had softened.

Brittany's father looked torn. He looked at his wife, who nodded back at him. He looked straight at Santana, his lips pursed. "Fine," he said gruffly, "but only until the air raids finish. Then we send her straight home." He turned around and headed straight for the cottage. Brittany watched her father disappear behind the door, relieved that he had given into her demands.

"Well, I guess that settles it. You're stuck with us Santana," Brittany's mother said, "Perhaps you might want to get off her Brittany. She's probably had quite a fright, and we all need a rest."

Brittany quickly jumped off Santana, only now noticing their compromising position. Brittany blushed and offered her arm to Santana. Santana took her hand and felt Brittany pull her up onto her feet with a firm grip. "Sorry," Brittany said in a shy voice.

Santana let go of Brittany's hand and brushed some of her hair out of her face. "Thanks," Santana said sincerely, hoping that Brittany understood that she wasn't only just thanking her for pulling her upright.

Brittany smiled at Santana. "By the way, I'm Brittany. Brittany Pierce." She pointed to her mother and sister standing behind her. "And this is my mom, and that's my sister."

"Just call me Joy, Santana."

"And I'm Abby."

"Nice to meet you all. I'm really sorry, for everything really," she said in earnest.

"You're fine Santana. Don't mind my husband. It's been a long day for us, and we're all just a bit tired," Joy explained.

Santana nodded in understanding. She was still wary of the man's feelings towards her, and she was prepared to avoid him as much as she could during her time at the cottage.

"Well, if you excuse me, I'm going to go have a lie down." Brittany's mother returned back to the cottage, leaving the three girls outside.

Brittany walked back to the bushes where she was hiding a few minutes ago and retrieved their bags and luggage. Abby threw her stick down on the ground and followed Brittany, afraid to be left alone with the stranger. Abby tried lifting one of the heavier bags, but was stopped when a dark hand reached out.

"Here, let me," Santana offered. She took the bag from Abby and lifted it onto her shoulder. She also took the handle of the nearest suitcase and raised it out of the shrubbery.

"I'm not sure if I like you," Abby said bluntly.

"That's not nice Abby," Brittany scolded.

Santana raised her arms, her hands opened in front of her chest in a gesture of innocence. "It's alright. I understand. Hopefully I'll be able to change your mind."

Abby shrugged and shouldered the smallest bag. She walked over to the cottage without turning back to look at them.

"Sorry about my family. I swear they're normally really nice people."

"It's cool. I'm used to it."

"I like you, and I'm sure you're a nice person." Brittany said quite confidently.

Santana's face heated up. "Thanks," she said timidly as she reached for another backpack. She placed the backpack on top of the suitcase and then reached for another. She took five steps towards the cottage before the backpack resting on top of one of her suitcases toppled over. It knocked into her other suitcase and caused Santana to stumble over. She quickly corrected herself, hoping that no one had seen her.

Her hopes were crushed when she heard a faint giggle. She glanced at Brittany who was still standing by the bushes and cleared her throat.

"Just leave some of the bags here Santana. We'll come back later for them. They're heavy," Brittany said, stating the obvious.

Santana let go of one of her suitcases and placed the backpack, which was now lying on the ground, back on top of her suitcase. She dragged them to the cottage, with Brittany following behind.

As she entered through the door, she had to slowly allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. Nobody was in the room, and it seemed that nobody had bothered to turn on any of the lights. She heard the crunching of gravel behind her as Brittany dragged up her own luggage.

"Where should I put these Brittany?"

Brittany looked around the darkened room. She figured that her family had gone upstairs, where all the bedrooms were. "Just leave them here for now. Help me with the rest."

They turned back around and gathered the rest of the bags in silence. Brittany watched as Santana loaded a backpack on top of Brittany's suitcase.

"What are you doing?" Brittany asked.

Santana looked up, startled by Brittany's voice. Santana was sure that what she was doing was pretty obvious. "I'm just helping you with the luggage?" Santana replied, unsure of herself.

"Why are you putting all the bags on top of what I have to carry? You're the one who broke into our house. You should be the one who takes in all our bags."

"I...I just...I didn't..." Santana flustered. Brittany didn't smile at Santana and it made her feel uneasy. Santana started to remove the backpack from the top of the suitcase. "I'm sorry," Santana mumbled.

Brittany placed a hand on Santana's shoulder. "I'm kidding Santana."

Santana looked into Brittany's eyes and saw a glint of mischief. Brittany reached out for the backpack and placed it back on top of her suitcase.

"I guess you're not really used to my sense of humor. You probably think I'm a really mean person now."

"No, no, you let me stay with you guys, I could never think of you as a mean person. You caught me off-guard, that's all."

Brittany smiled at Santana and she couldn't help but smile back.

They returned to the cottage, and Brittany flicked the lights on as she closed the door behind her, illuminating the room before them, and also the bushes right outside the windows. On Brittany's left was the sunken living room, where the couches, strewn with blankets and cushions all pointed towards the centerpiece of the area; the fireplace. To Brittany's right was the kitchen, fenced off by the kitchen bench surrounded by tall, wooden stools. The staircase leading to the top floor stood in the middle of the cottage, and was large enough to block the view to anything at the rear of the house. A lot of what Brittany could see was in different tones of brown. Her grandparents had believed in bringing in the earthy shades to reflect the naturalness of the surrounding area. It made the cottage feel homely and warm and was the perfect place to relax and get away from the bustles of society. Though Brittany had not been to the cottage in a while, everything felt familiar, and just how she remembered it being the last time she visited. Everything from the crack on the kitchen bench, down to the red blanket's tassel dangling haphazardly off the sofa situated on the far right of the living room.

Brittany hopped down the two steps to the sunken living room and leaped onto the nearest couch. She rested her legs on the arm rest and laid her head on the other. Her hanging legs slumped lazily as she closed her eyes and groaned. After a long hike, she could finally allow her feet to rest. She kicked off her shoes and could almost feel her feet throb as the blood rushed to the ends of her toes. She raised her legs up and down to stretch her muscles. She was in the middle of massaging her calf when she heard a quaint cough coming from beside her. She sat back up on the couch and saw Santana still standing at the doorway, her left arm crossed across her stomach and holding onto the elbow of her right arm. Her eyes were flickering around the room and Brittany couldn't help but notice how small she seemed.

"Are you alright Santana?"

Santana's eyes flittered to Brittany and her hands started to wring in front of her stomach. Brittany was reminded of a meerkat or a small rodent.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm fine," Santana replied, the hint of nervousness betraying her words.

Brittany cocked her eyebrow. "Then why are you still standing there?"

Santana opened her mouth but no sound escaped. She let go of her own fingers and flopped her arms uselessly by her sides.

"Come on silly! Come sit down. Make yourself at home!" Brittany gestured to the spot on the sofa right adjacent to her. She patted the spot and looked up at Santana hopefully.

Santana looked around the room, as if to see if anyone was spying on her, and made her way to the couch. She sat down rather uncomfortably, right on the edge of the cushion, and as far away from Brittany as she could sit.

Brittany sat up straight and watched Santana curiously. She crossed her legs and turned to face the timid girl beside her.

"You know, I don't bite," Brittany said, "well, unless you want me to." Brittany waggled her eyebrows, hoping to elicit a laugh from Santana. Instead, Santana's mouth gaped open in a gasp and her cheeks reddened.

"What's wrong Santana?" Brittany asked in genuine concern.

Santana looked unsure, but could see the sincerity in Brittany, so she felt comfortable enough to reply honestly. "It's weird. I've actually been staying in your house for a couple of days, and quite comfortably might I add, but now I feel like I'm intruding." Santana's voice faded as she started to play with the hem of her jeans.

She was suddenly hit with a sudden force to the side of her face. It didn't hurt, but it definitely surprised her. She quickly looked up and saw Brittany holding a pillow in one of her hands, and not smiling.

"What was that for?" Santana said with a hint of anger in her voice.

"We need to hit all the silly out of you," Brittany deadpanned, "You're being ridiculous. We welcomed you into our house. We want you here. You don't need to feel like an intruder. What's yours is ours."

Santana chuckled. "I think it's 'what's ours is yours'."

"That's what I said. You thought this house was _yours_, but it's actually _ours_," Brittany shrugged. She suddenly grinned mischievously and swiftly swung her arm, hitting Santana in the face with a pillow again. Santana's hair followed the path of the pillow and was strewn all over her face.

Santana gasped and felt her cheek. "Hey! What was that for?" She wanted to be angry at Brittany, but found it hard to look cross when Brittany had her head back, laughing manically.

Once Brittany calmed down, she shrugged. "I just felt like it."

"That's it. You're getting it." She groped around for a pillow and was about to swing her arm, when she heard footsteps coming down the staircase. Santana quickly scrambled back onto her side of the couch and watched silently as Brittany's mom approached the kitchen.

"Oh girls, there you are. We were all upstairs having a little rest. Your dad's having a shower right now, and when he's done, you can go. Actually, he should be finishing up soon."

Right on cue, Brittany's father arrived at the base of the staircase, his hair a soaking mess and a towel wrapped around his shoulders. "Wow that feels so much better," he exclaimed loudly, "I'm never taking a good shower for granted ever again." He turned to see the girls sitting on the sofa and quietened. Unaccustomed to seeing the stranger sitting in his parent's old living room, he stopped in his tracks and cleared his throat. He averted his gaze, to stop himself from staring, and allowed his eyes to arrive on the pile of suitcases and bags haphazardly strewn about the front door. "I guess I better move these bags then." He reached over to grab the nearest bag and returned back up the staircase.

Brittany's mother stayed silent throughout the entire lack of interaction between her husband and their guest and could feel the tension hanging in the air. "Brittany, why don't you help your father and take your bags up? Then you can have your shower."

Brittany looked over at Santana and saw an unreadable expression. She nodded and got up from the sofa. She grabbed her bag and dragged it up the staircase with much difficulty. She was making a lot of unnecessary noisy, but found that she had no intention of changing her grip on the suitcase handle. Dragging a suitcase up a mountain for the most part of the day had taken a toll on her daily-suitcase-dragging-limit. Through the racket she was making, she could hear the faint voices of her mother and Santana, but couldn't comprehend anything meaningful. At the landing of the stairs, she bumped into her father.

"Dad, can you please try to be more welcoming of Santana? Please? For me?"

Her father grumbled in reply and headed back down the stairs, leaving Brittany to bore her eyes into the back of his head, hoping to change his attitude through the power of mind control.

When he didn't turn back, Brittany headed to the room she normally stayed in when visiting her grandparents. Two beds sat side by side, and on the nearest one laid Abby, fast asleep, on top of the covers. How the girl could sleep so much, Brittany could never understand. Nevertheless, Brittany didn't want to wake her up, so she silently dragged the suitcase to the foot of the farthest bed and gently unzipped it to reveal neatly folded clothes; tops on the left, and bottoms on the right. She noticed that her parents had packed a lot of Brittany's older clothes, ones which she didn't wear anymore. She wanted to be annoyed, but knew that they had no choice; they had packed their suitcases in secret, without Brittany and her sister knowing. She picked out her pajamas and a towel and tiptoed back out of the bedroom, and into the bathroom.

Once in the privacy of the bathroom, she quickly shed of her clothes, noticing dirt stains and a slight dampness from her sweat. She hopped into the shower and turned on the water, groaning in delight when she first drops of hot water drummed onto her back, massaging away at her tight muscles. Brittany allowed the stream of water to pour over her head, submerging all her senses to nothing but the feel of water racing down her fatigued body. She couldn't help but feel as though the water was cleansing her of so much more than just dirt, but also the weariness of the day. She held her breath under the water, closed her eyes, stood still and counted to ten.

* * *

She pulled her hair back as she walked down the stairs, into the kitchen, where she found her mother at the stove and her father at the sink.

"Do you need any help with dinner?"

"No dear, we're almost done. Could you help set up the table though?" her mother answered with her back still facing Brittany.

Brittany reached up to open a cupboard, revealing stacks of clean plates, and carefully grabbed a handful.

"Oh, you don't need to set out the plates, just grab some cutlery."

Confused, Brittany went to a drawer and counted out enough knives and forks. She took them to the back of the house, where the dining table was situated, and found four empty plates lined neatly on the table, the fifth plate in Santana's hands.

"Hi," Brittany greeted quietly.

Santana looked startled, but happy to see Brittany. "Hey."

Brittany started to place a knife and fork beside the first plate when Santana walked over and held out her hand. "Let me help."

"They're just forks, I'm alright."

Santana retracted her hand and stepped back, allowing Brittany to shuffle over to the next plate.

"How was your shower?"

"Good. I feel fresh and clean now. I don't attract flies anymore," Brittany joked.

Santana giggled to herself, causing Brittany to smile. "You can probably have your shower after dinner."

Santana nodded in reply.

"Not that you attract flies," Brittany quickly added.

Santana opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted when Brittany's father walked in with a bowl of what looked like mashed potatoes. He placed the bowl in the middle of the table and turned to Brittany. "Might want to wake Abby up for dinner."

"Oh yeah, sure." Brittany turned to head back to the top floor, leaving Santana to stand awkwardly with her father.

Once Brittany was a mere two steps away from the bedroom where Abby was asleep, the door opened, where her sister appeared, rubbing her eyes lazily.

"Sorry, was I being too noisy?" Brittany whispered.

"I heard your footsteps, but I woke up a few minutes ago by myself."

"Actually, I was coming to wake you up. Dinner's ready."

"Good. I'm starving."

Brittany's stomach seemed to agree as it grumbled in response to Abby and the girls broke into silent laughter as they headed down the stairs.

Upon entering the dining area, Brittany's nose was hit with the wafting scent of their dinner. It seemed to put her stomach into hyperactive mode, as it continued to make more sounds, but Brittany couldn't care less about feeling embarrassed. She was famished.

Her father sat at the head of the table, with her mother sitting on his left. Santana sat on the right side of the table, but an empty space prevented her from getting too close to the head of the family. Abby headed off to sit next to Brittany's mother, and Brittany went to sit in the empty seat between her father and Santana.

"Let's eat."

Brittany didn't need to be told twice. She reached over for the bowl of mashed potatoes and began to scoop some onto her plate. She leaned over and heaped some potato onto Santana's plate.

"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."

Brittany continued to fill her plate. Though her stomach begged for more, she found that she had to refrain herself. There wasn't much on the table, and with an extra mouth to feed, Brittany knew she wasn't going to sleep with a fat belly. Still, any food was better than no food, and her stomach hushed in satisfaction.

"So Santana, tell us a little bit more about yourself," Brittany's mother asked.

Santana looked up and paused in thought before speaking. "There's not much to say really. I'm Santana Lopez, sixteen years old, an only child. My parents work in a hospital, and I go to school."

Brittany watched Santana expectedly, waiting to hear more from her, but Santana returned to her plate. Her shoulders sagged in disappointment. Brittany didn't understand why, but she wanted to know everything about Santana. To her, Santana was a total mystery, an enigma. She perked her curiosity, yet she was incredibly reserved and Brittany could feel that Santana wasn't one for sharing too much personal information. It was in that moment, that Brittany resolved to get Santana to open up, to understand her.

* * *

"Are you sure you're alright with sleeping down here?"

"Don't worry about me. I've been sleeping down here for the last week." Santana looked over at Brittany's father and then quickly averted her gaze when he narrowed his eyes. "I don't think there's room anywhere else anyway."

"One of the girls could sleep down here."

Abby crossed her arms. "I'm not sleeping on the couch!" she said indignantly.

"Then Brittany can."

Abby's mouth frowned. She walked to her mother's side and stood up on tip toe. She lifted her hand to her mother's ear and whispered, "But I don't want to sleep with her either."

Unfortunately for Abby, her whisper was loud enough for Santana to overhear, and she quickly interjected. "Really, it's alright. I really don't mind. The couch is comfy. Plus I can keep watch for all of you. It's the least I can do for letting me stay."

John's ears perked at this, and he looked over at Santana carefully for the first time. Brittany noticed this, and hoped it was a step in the right direction for an attitude change from her father.

"Well, if you say so," Brittany's mother said, "feel free to change your mind any time. Goodnight Santana."

The rest of Brittany's family mumbled their _goodnights_ as they trudged up the stairs to the bedrooms on the top floor. Brittany stayed behind and watched as Santana fluffed up a cushion and laid it on one end of the sofa.

"Wait–" Brittany said as she quickly turned around and ran up the staircase, two steps at a time. She opened up the linen closet, and retrieved a pillow and some warmer blankets and returned to Santana.

"I thought these would be more comfortable. And warmer. I would offer to light the fireplace, but I don't think it'd be safe. Don't want the enemy thinking that we're sending smoke signals to everyone."

"Thanks." Santana smiled in appreciation and replaced the cushion with the offered pillow. Just as she climbed into the confines of her temporary bed, Brittany switched off the lights with a soft _click_. Her eyes remained open as they searched for Brittany's face in the darkness.

"Goodnight Brittany."

"Goodnight Santana."


	4. Secret

**Secret**

Brittany stirred from what was a restless sleep. The first thing she noticed was the unfamiliar object under her head. The pillow she was resting on didn't feel quite right. The material felt scratchy and it smelt faintly of mothballs. That was when it hit her; she was not in her usual bed at home.

Her eyes flickered open as she quickly assessed the state that her body was in. Her left ear was numb, as was her arm, from sleeping on her side all night. She felt a dull pain in her mouth, and realized that her clenched jaw had bitten her tongue. She relaxed her jaw and turned onto her back, so she was facing the ceiling. While shifting in her bed, a sharp pain shot up her leg. Her leg muscles were sore, most likely from hiking for most of yesterday. She sat up in her bed, to massage the pain away, but quickly stopped the motions when she heard a rustling beside her. She looked over, and saw her sister, arms flung wide and stretched across the mattress, her little chest rising and falling with her quiet breaths.

She carefully lay back down on her back, with her arms cradling her head, on top of the starchy pillow. It had taken a while for Brittany to fall asleep last night. Her mind had decided to replay the day's events, from lining up at the community center to receive her family's rations, to her father's panicked face as he ushered them into the car. She was reminded again of the heavy silence that had fallen on her family which only seemed to be amplified by the lone sounds of their feet crunching through the gravel which lined the path up the mountain as they hike to their final destination; their grandparents' old cottage.

When she was finally close to nodding off, her sister's bad timing woke her up again, and her overactive mind didn't hesitate to prevent her from falling asleep again. As her sister returned from a midnight trip to the toilet and settled herself back into her bed, her mind happened to wander into thoughts of the new face she had met, which the owner happened to be currently sleeping on a couch, underneath the same roof that sheltered Brittany.

Santana Lopez.

The name swam about in Brittany's head. It was such a pretty name, and Brittany had never heard of anything like it. Just thinking about the name elicited an abundance of thoughts to swarm into her head; her frightened face when Brittany tackled her, her bashfulness when she suddenly became too shy to enter the same house that she had inhabited for the last week and the lack of emotion when she was asked to open up. Brittany pictured her thick, dark hair, the way she fidgeted with her hands when she was nervous and the way her nose scrunched up when she smiled, as rare as it was. She remembered the way she felt under her hips when she had accidentally straddled her...

Brittany rubbed her face, ridding her head of uncouth thoughts. She swiftly rolled out of bed, and tip-toed out of the bedroom, slowly closing the door behind her to prevent the premature awakening of her sister. She headed straight for the stairs, hoping to get to the kitchen before anyone else for breakfast. She had eaten very little last night, and her stomach was beginning its protest. Once at the bottom of the stairs, instead of seeing a slumbering Santana, she found her wide awake and standing at the fireplace, inspecting the photo frames which once stood proudly when her grandparents still lived in the cottage, but were now just collecting dust.

"Good morning," Brittany said quietly, hoping not to startle Santana. The whispering was in vain as Santana jumped slightly and quickly turned around, embarrassed that she had been caught.

"Oh, good morning Brittany," she said hastily, "I was just..." she stopped and started giggling.

"What?" Brittany asked, confused. She looked around to see what Santana was finding so funny, but failed to see the humor in the wooden wall behind her.

"Sorry, it's just your hair," Santana pointed.

Brittany raised her hand and patted the top of her head. "Bad bed hair, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

Brittany sighed and gave up. Without a mirror, Brittany couldn't see anything, and she wouldn't be able to fix anything without one. She ran her fingers through her hair, hoping that it would suffice.

"See anything you like?" Brittany asked as she pointed back to the fireplace mantle.

"Well, actually, I've looked at these before, you know, when I first arrived. But everything's a bit different now that I know who's who in the photos."

Brittany walked over to the fireplace to join Santana. She quickly scanned the photos which had not changed for years. In the centre was the largest photo, depicting the entire family at her grandfather's seventy-ninth birthday. There, she could see everyone with their exaggerated smiles, oblivious to how much their worlds would change in the next few years. There was a smaller photo of a young Brittany, uncomfortably holding her new baby sister. Beside Brittany were her mother's arms, the rest of her body cut off in the frame, outstretched and ready if anything were to happen.

"My favourite is this one." Santana pointed to a photo taken at a mall during Christmas time. Brittany and Abby were sitting on Santa's lap, except that the joy of Christmas didn't seem to sit well with the two girls. Her sister was being held by Santa, and had gotten frightened and agitated, so she was captured mid wail. At the same time, she had yanked hard on one of Brittany's ponytails, causing the latter to howl in pain. Her parents had paid eagerly for two copies of the photo, one for themselves, to pull out during family parties to embarrass the girls, and one for her grandparents, to frame and display on the fireplace mantle.

Brittany blushed and quickly placed her hand on the frame, obscuring the offending photo. Santana muffled a quick chuckle, as Brittany tried to distract her. "That one is my favourite." It was an old black and white photo of a couple on the steps of a church. The frame flattened the photo, hiding the creases and fading corners. The woman in the photo was young and adorning a beautiful, but modest white dress and holding a bouquet of flowers. The man was smartly dressed up in an old fashioned suit, a flower pinned to his lapel. The couple were standing arm in arm, their mouths pulled into faint smiles. "It's my grandparents on their wedding day," Brittany explained proudly.

"It's beautiful."

Brittany touched her grandparent's faces. She missed them both so much.

"Breakfast?" Brittany asked. She headed towards the kitchen and Santana followed.

"Sure!"

Brittany raided the cupboards. Most were empty but some did contain some essentials. She grabbed the coffee and sugar jars, and turned the kettle on. "Sorry, I can only give it to you black. We don't have any milk. I think there's a small convenience store down the road. We can grab some stuff later." Brittany grabbed the loaf of bread that her mom was smart enough to bring from home. It was squished and weirdly distorted, but food was food. She threw some slices into the toaster, and found an old jar of peanut butter spread in the cupboard. "No allergies, yes?"

Santana shook her head.

"Good, just checking." A shrill noise came from the kettle, and Brittany quickly reached over to lift the kettle off the heating element. She poured two mugs of coffee and placed the kettle back into its stand. The two pieces of toast popped up from the toaster, and Santana started spreading the peanut butter on the slices.

"Alright, breakfast is served. Bon appétit!" The two girls munched quietly on the toast, the silence only broken by Brittany blowing on her scalding hot coffee. She slurped a small amount, but immediately placed her mug back onto the table. Her tongue was now raw and it was starting to throb. "Oh mother-"

"You alright?"

"I burnt my tongue."

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" It had slipped from Santana's mouth with her realizing it. Her eyes bulged out, and she blushed furiously. "I..."

Luckily for her, the sound of Brittany's family coming down the stairs interrupted them. "Is that coffee I smell?" her father asked, his voice booming from around the corner, much too loud for such a morning. Brittany got up from her seat at the kitchen island and poured her father a cup of coffee.

"Want one too, Mom?"

"No honey, I'm alright. I might make myself some tea instead."

Brittany returned to her seat and drank some more of her coffee. Luckily it was now much cooler and much more pleasant to drink. Nonetheless, Brittany didn't really enjoy the extreme bitterness of the drink. She was usually one to add a lot of cream and sugar. Some said that the caffeine helped them wake up in the morning, but in Brittany's case, it was the overload on sugar.

Her parents and Abby finally joined them in the kitchen, all looking fresh and well-rested. Her father headed straight for the steaming cup of coffee which Brittany had brewed and left on the counter. Her sister grabbed the half eaten loaf and shoved some slices into the toaster.

"Good morning girls. Good morning Santana. Have a good sleep?" Brittany's mother asked as she reached up to open the cupboard doors.

"Yes, thank you," Santana said stiffly. Brittany noticed that she had slipped back into her reserved temperament.

"Couch comfortable enough?"

"Yes Mrs. Pierce, the couch was fine."

"Please Santana, I told you to call me Joy," Brittany's mom said sternly.

"Yes Mrs. Joy," Santana finished awkwardly. Brittany muffled her laughter as Santana hid her face behind her coffee mug. Brittany's father looked over at Santana, but didn't say anything. He grabbed the two pieces of toast that had just popped up from the toaster and helped Abby spread peanut butter on the slices. Brittany stood up from her stool, collecting her and Santana's plates and mugs and started washing them at the sink. Santana walked over and grabbed the towel hanging from the oven door handle and started drying the dishes and then replacing them back into the cupboard.

"I'm going to go brush my teeth. And I guess my hair," Brittany chimed as she pulled at the mess on top of her head. She headed up the stairs, and Santana started to follow, only to realize that Brittany didn't need any immediate help, so she turned back around and started folding up the blanket she slept under the night before.

Joy Pierce watched the strange girl with an amused grin and a knowing cock in her eyebrow.

* * *

"Welcome to Brittany Pierce World Tours. Please keep all items, including your hands, within the vehicle and please no flash photography. Emergency exits are situated right behind you, but we're planning on not needing them. Alright, let's get this show on the road!"

Brittany, Santana and Abby were standing in a straight line, in front of the front door of the cottage. Boredom had quickly grasped onto the youngest Pierce, and she had begged Brittany to play with her. Brittany initially groaned and told her sister to leave her alone, until her mother had forced her to be nicer to Abby. Brittany had then decided that she wanted to give Santana a tour of the cottage and had convinced Abby that it was a game they could play, to which Santana had tried to convince Brittany that it wasn't necessary, until Brittany grabbed onto her arm and dragged her to the entrance of the house.

"On your left is the living room, and on your right you will find the kitchen. Please note the unique architectural design of having a sunken living room, which were very popular in houses between the 1950s and 1970s. Originally believed to be an ingenious idea of the designers of the house, it was actually installed by pure accident, as the builders of the house had dug too deep a hole when constructing this building. "

"Are you making all this up?" Abby asked. "Grandpa never told me that."

"Couldn't they have just poured the dirt back into the hole if they dug too far?"

Brittany tugged on the sleeves of her shirt nervously and coughed. "And you'll notice the marble used for this spectacular fireplace," Brittany said, quickly changing the subject, "of course, they couldn't use wood, like the rest of the house, as that would be counterproductive. Let us be grateful that the builders were at least smart enough to know which materials are flammable. I don't usually allow this, but I'm feeling particularly generous today. Reach out and feel the cool marble with your fingertips. Feel how smooth that is." Brittany ran her finger along the top of the mantelpiece, and then looked down on her fingertip. A grey circle coated the pad of her finger, and she quickly wiped the dust off, onto her sister, as she pretended to guide her towards the fireplace.

"Behind you, you will see a nice set of couches, the largest one being the habitat of the elusive Santanalopagus. Not much is known about this magnificent creature, but those who have claimed to have seen her all reported to have been temporarily blinded. It is unknown if the cause of blindness was from its beauty or by horrors not understood by mankind..." Santana playfully slapped Brittany's shoulder. "But one day we hope to know more about its majesty. Even if I have to do it myself."

Brittany walked up the two steps from the living space to the kitchen, Abby and Santana following closely behind. "The kitchen is one of the most favourite destinations for tourists, but it also happens to be one of the most dangerous. I have been a tour guide for almost twenty years now, and this is the spot where I happen to lose a lot of my tourists. They seem to disappear off the face of the planet, as if they've been gobbled up by the refrigerator. So, please, stay close, and if anything grabs at you, do not put up a struggle. They will only get you faster." Abby's eyes widened and she hung close to her older sister.

"Though small, the kitchen has been described as cozy by many of its users. Wood from the oak tree has been used to construct the kitchen cupboards. Interestingly enough, oak wood symbolizes strength, nobility, bravery and protection just to name a few. The refrigerator is one of the more modern appliances which you will find in this cottage; it was added during the great heat wave of '98, where the owners of this house climbed into the refrigerator to escape the heat. Unfortunately they froze to death, and whenever you open the fridge, you may hear a faint _whoosh._ Some say it is the ghosts, telling you to stop letting the cool air out, while others say it is just the sound of the vacuum created when opening a sealed door."

Brittany looked over at Abby who was eyeing the silver refrigerator timidly. Before the war, she would make up stories to tell her younger sister on a regular basis, who would listen hungrily, captured by Brittany's imagination. Since then, her imagination was not what it used to be and she found that she was never in the right mood to tell her sister stories, but watching her sister now, she was starting to realize how much she had missed this. Santana simply rolled her eyes, but there was no venom in the gesture.

"Let's play a game. I'm going to name an object, and the first person who finds it, wins a prize."

"What prize?" her sister asked eagerly.

Brittany knew she had to choose something good. Her sister drove a hard bargain, and would only play along if the prize was something worthy of winning. She looked around the kitchen, and then down her own body. "My hat. You will play for my hat." She took off the item off her head and placed it onto the bench.

Her sister reached to touch the hat, but Brittany shooed her hand. "No touching until you win. Okay, ready? The item you will be looking for is...the egg beater. Go!" Abby scrambled to open up the nearest cupboards, while Santana stood back.

"Am I really doing this?"

Brittany nudged Santana's back. "Of course you are. I can see it in your eyes. You're competitive. Plus I know how much you want my hat."

Santana looked over at Brittany's hat on the bench and reached for the higher cupboards, not really concentrating on their contents. After a few minutes of listening to kitchen utensils bumping into each other, a voice rang out. "Found it!" Abby held the old egg beater above her head triumphantly. She closed the bottom drawer with a loud slam. Brittany walked over and took the egg beater from Abby's hands.

"Ah! Eggs aren't the only thing that can be whipped," Brittany said cryptically to Santana with a glint in her eye. Santana opened her mouth to retort, but Brittany grabbed her hat from the table and put it on top of her sister's head. She grabbed the two pieces of string which hung off the ear flaps and tied them loosely around her sister's chin. The hat was too big for her head, but Brittany lifted it higher on Abby's head by pulling the pompom at the top of the hat. Her sister smiled brightly, proud of her small achievement. "Let's continue on our tour."

Brittany led the group through the door at the back of the kitchen and into the dining room.

"You notice that the most defining feature of the dining room is the giant chandelier hanging from the roof. Back in the day, we did not have the correct instruments to clean such a delicate piece of artwork, so little cockroaches were trained to clean each of those crystals. Cockroaches were chosen as it was hoped that in the event of a nuclear attack, the cockroaches would still be alive to clean up the mess, ready for the imminent arrival of the aliens, who would be the next creatures to inhabit our world." Brittany walked over to the antique dresser along the back wall. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a candlestick. "Of course, if the electricity ran out, dinner was had by candlelight, which proved most romantic, but it meant the cockroaches were losing their jobs."

Brittany left the dining room through the opposite doorway to where they entered. "On the right is the door which leads to the garden, but we'll leave that for later. That's the bottom floor covered, and now we shall take our tour upstairs."

Once at the bottom of the stairs, Brittany abruptly stopped, causing Santana and Abby to stumble into each other. "Do you hear that?" Brittany whispered, cupping her hand around her ear. Brittany was surprised to see not only her sister, but Santana lean in and narrow her eyes in concentration.

"I don't hear anything," Abby said, crossing her arms.

"No, listen carefully. It's the spirits of the house. They're saying that they won't let us up the stairs unless we follow their instructions. Don't worry everybody, this has happened before. As long as we listen to them, we'll be safe.

Okay, so I'm being told that the first three steps are made of lava, so we have to skip those stairs. Do you think you can do it Santana?"

Santana studied the stairs. "Easy," Santana said smugly. She stretched her left leg and placed it on top of the fourth step without breaking eye contact with Brittany. She started to lift her right leg, but lost her balance and started to fall backwards. Brittany quickly reached out and caught Santana, pushing her back onto the step. "Thanks," Santana mumbled bashfully.

Brittany picked Abby up from under her arms and lifted her towards Santana. Abby placed her legs onto the fourth step and reached out to hold onto the handrail. Santana supported Abby as she helped her upright. Brittany then stretched her legs out, past the fourth step. She leaned forward and allowed her legs muscles and body weight to propel her forward and onto the stairs gracefully.

"Your legs..." Santana started.

"I used to do gymnastics," Brittany explained. She looked back up the staircase. "Well done everyone. We've gotten past the first obstacle. Onward and upward!" She took five more steps and then stopped. "On this step, you have to either sing, or do a little dance." Brittany started pumping her chest and swinging her arms in time to a silent beat. She turned around and started shaking her behind in front of Santana's face.

"That was really thug of you," Santana complimented as Brittany turned back around. Brittany took a bow and walked up a few steps.

Abby stepped up to the spot that Brittany was standing on a few moments before, and started copying Brittany. Santana broke out into laughter, the hardest that she had laughed in a long time, and clapped along. Brittany had never heard Santana laugh that hard, and it made her smile. She liked seeing this side of Santana, one that was more relaxed and comfortable.

"Mmm, who taught you to dance like that, girl?" Santana asked, faking a ghetto accent.

Abby took a few steps up and stood beside Brittany. She pointed at her sister, and Brittany raised her arms in self defense. "I did none of the sort! How much MTV do you watch?"

"MTV? Shouldn't you be watching Sesame Street or something? Or did Elmo teach you to dance like that?"

"I'm seven! I'm too old to watch Sesame Street," Abby said defiantly. She crossed her arms and the hat on her head slipped and covered her eyes.

"No one is too old to watch Sesame Street," Brittany said kindly as she lifted the hat off her sister's eyes. "Your turn Santana."

Santana stepped up onto the step and cleared her throat. "I can't dance like you gangsters." She opened her mouth and started singing the alphabet song. Afterwards, she bowed to the sound of Brittany's applause. "Elmo taught me that one."

"You have a nice voice," Brittany praised.

"Thanks." Santana went to join Brittany and Abby on the higher steps. "Where to now, Tour Guide Brittany?"

"We have to jump the last step, through the Wall of Fire." She skipped up to the last step, and leaped onto the landing, finishing in a somersault roll along the floor. Abby and then Santana followed afterwards, though none of them were as flamboyant, or as graceful, as Brittany.

"Here we are. Welcome to the second part of the tour; the second floor. On your left is the bathroom." She opened the door to reveal a glittering white bathroom. "I can't really think of anything interesting to say about the bathroom, except that, this is where I like to get naked."

Abby cringed and swatted at Brittany. "Eww Brittany."

Brittany shrugged her shoulders. She wasn't going to apologize for telling the truth. She looked over at Santana, but Santana averted her gaze.

"On our right is the Pierce crib, home of the famous Pierce Sister Duo." Brittany tentatively opened the door to her temporary bedroom. Back at home, her room was a constant mess, though Brittany did like to think of it more like a controlled mess. She took a brief peek into the room, just make sure that she hadn't made too much of a mess, and then opened the door wider when she saw that the room was looking reasonably sensible. She would have been very embarrassed if it was already a mess; especially considering that they had only been staying in the house for less than twenty four hours.

"In the bed closest to us, Abigail Jeana Pierce is constantly found slumbering, only getting up to eat or annoy her sister. As much I love sleep, Abby is found to sleep in excessive amounts, and it has been hypothesized that this behavior was transferred from when she was an infant." Brittany looked down at her sister's pout and rolled her eyes. "Nevertheless, she is a pretty cool baby sister, and I wouldn't change her for the world." Abigail seemed to accept this as she smiled back while Santana rubbed the top of her head, messing up her hair and hat.

"And the bed farthest from us is home to the greatest person in the world, yours truly." Santana cocked her eyebrow, but Brittany shrugged again; she really wasn't one for lying.

"Erm...Brittany...are those?"

Brittany turned to look where Santana was pointing. Her eyes widened and she pounced for her bed, smothering the offending object with her body. She furtively grabbed her loose underwear and stuffed them in a random pocket of her suitcase, at the end of her bed. She stood back up, trying to stay refined and ushered the group out of the bedroom, ignoring the faint "Superman panties?" escaping from Santana's lips.

"The last stop on our tour is still a bit of a mystery to me. Originally my grandparents' bedroom, it is now in the possession of a pair of squatters, otherwise known as my parents." Brittany opened the door and then jumped out of her skin. Her heart was beating rapidly and she could feel it trying to escape from her chest. "Mom, you scared me. I didn't know you were in here."

Brittany's mom was bent over something on the floor and had her own hand clenched to her chest. "You scared me too! Knocking is usually the proper etiquette when entering a closed room." Brittany's mom chided.

"Sorry Mom."

"It's okay. What are you girls doing?"

Abby skipped up to the large bed in the middle of the room and leaped up gracefully into the air, landing with a soft _oof _on top of the collection of pillows strewn across the mattress. "We're exploring the house and Brittany is our tour guide," the large mass on the bed said.

"Tour guide Brittany? You haven't done that in a while." Joy turned to face Santana. "When she was younger, Santana, she used to pretend to be a tour guide or flight attendant and take her toys on holiday trips. She'd-"

"Mom! Stop embarrassing me!" Brittany interrupted. She looked over at Santana whose eyes were still on her mom.

"Oh come on, it's not embarrassing. It's endearing. She loved hearing the sound of her own voice from a young age."

Santana giggled and she looked at Brittany, whose eyes were narrowed and directed at her mom.

"What are you doing Mom?" Brittany said, quickly changing the topic.

"I'm sorting through the suitcases we brought. I could probably use some help actu-."

"Well, that's the end of the tour. My name is Brittany Pierce, and it was a pleasure being your tour guide for today. Please feel free to leave feedback in my feedback box, and I hope to see you again on another Brittany Pierce World Tour." Brittany said in a single breath. She dashed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind her and leaving her mom to roll her eyes in her wake.

* * *

There was something uncomfortably familiar about her current situation. Her lungs were starting to burn, as were her legs and back. She could feel the heat of the sun beating down on her bare neck and the grip of her handlebars becoming increasingly slippery thanks to her body's perspiration.

Finally her eyes caught sight of her destination and she pushed harder as she got progressively closer. Soon enough, she hopped off the foreign bicycle and entered the small convenience store; one of the few stores which existed on the mountain to supply only the basic necessities to its residents. A faint bell signalized her entrance. It woke up the tired man behind the cash register as he looked up to eye Brittany, but once he noted that she didn't look like an immediate threat, his eyelids were too heavy for him and he quickly dozed off.

Brittany walked over to the small stack of shopping baskets and struggled to release the top one. After prying it free, she dug through her pockets and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper. She unfolded it and looked at the first thing on her list.

Milk.

Lunch at the cottage had been a quiet affair. Her father did not make an appearance, Brittany's mom providing the explanation that he had gone to 'run some errands and would be back by dinner'. They were still short on edible provisions and Brittany had offered to head down to the local stores to see what she could find. She had visited these stores a couple of times, back when her grandmother would take her along on her shopping trips. Her mom was hesitant to allow her to travel alone, but Brittany insisted that she would stay safe and the empty refrigerator was also helping as a convincing argument.

Before leaving, Santana had offered up her bicycle, the one she had used to climb up the mountain.

"I parked it at the side of the house," Santana said as she led Brittany outside. They walked to the left side of the house, where dark shadows were being cast along the wall by the trees and shrubbery. Hidden out of view was a simple red bicycle, brown dust clinging to the circumference of the wheel and frame of the bicycle. "It's nothing much."

"It's perfect." Brittany swung her leg over the bicycle and sat down on the seat. She raised her leg and placed her foot onto the pedal and frowned. She hopped back off the bicycle and crouched down beside it. "Do you mind?" Brittany asked as she gestured towards the seat.

"Oh no, go ahead."

Brittany twisted the knob and adjusted the height of the seat. She lowered it down by a few inches and tightened it back up. She sat back onto the seat and grabbed onto the handlebars. "Better." She rung the small bell and a loud _ring_ echoed through the trees. It startled Brittany and she covered the bell with her hand, smothering the sound. "Alright, I better go grab us some supplies. I'll be back soon. Don't miss me too much!" She pushed her leg against the ground, giving her some momentum and headed towards the main road, leaving Santana's diminishing figure behind.

By now she had collected most of the items on her list. The things she couldn't get, Brittany assumed to be out of stock, especially since they were far away from society. Plus the nation was now on rations, so she wasn't expecting to cross everything off her list. She took her basket of groceries to the front, purposely dropping the basket loudly onto the table as to wake the slumbering man. His eyes shot open as he nearly stumbled off his stool. He started picking items out of Brittany's basket as he grumbled to himself inaudibly and packing them into bags. "Are you from around here? I don't think I've seen you before."

Brittany's tongue suddenly went dry. Technically her family was here to escape any danger. Did that mean that they were allowed to announce their arrival, or was that supposed to be a secret? It didn't make much sense if it was a secret though; they were hiding from the enemy, the ones dropping bombs from planes and the ones with rifles slung across their shoulders. However, there was always the possibility of spies, and you never knew who they were and what information they wanted. "I'm here on vacation." Brittany said, not making eye contact with the man.

"Vacation?" the man scoffed, "Do those things even exist anymore? I haven't taken a proper vacation in the last thirty years, and I don't think I'll ever get the chance now that those animals have arrived."

He was starting to make Brittany uncomfortable. She could hear the bitterness and resentment in his voice, and like a lot of other people, his eyes were not only tired, but small and frightened. She rummaged in her pockets for the money that her mom have given her and paid the man. As she grabbed her bags from the counter and headed towards the front door, the man coughed. "Have a nice vacation. And...uh...stay safe," he said quietly.

Brittany nodded in understanding. Even if the war was making everyone nervous, it also instilled a sense of community between everyone. Everyone was a victim of the war, and everyone had been affected. Even if their homes were being taken and their lives were at stake, the enemy could not take away their strength. If anything, they had fuelled a sense of national pride in its residents.

She loaded up Santana's bicycle by hanging the grocery bags off the bicycle handle, and pushed off with a heaved effort, especially now that her bicycle was heavier. Along the way, Brittany took her time to soak in the mountain atmosphere, letting her senses take over.

She could smell the faint aroma of pine trees.

She could hear nothing but the rustling of the plastic bags and her own labored breaths.

She could taste the crisp mountain air mixed with the saltiness of the thin layer of sweat coating her upper lip.

She could feel the wind blowing against her face and through her hair, instantly cooling her body.

She could see the sun peaking through the tops of the trees and shining brightly against everything that its rays could touch.

Brittany felt guilty. The man at the shop was right. Vacations didn't exist anymore, yet how come Brittany felt especially blessed to have the opportunity to be surrounded by such natural beauty? Wars meant misery, pain and death, but the mountains brought about life and splendor. It worried and angered Brittany, to think that this might all be gone in a matter of time, lost without putting up a fight.

Before long, she arrived back at the cottage and parked the bicycle back where Santana had originally hid it. She unloaded her bags and carried them back into the house, the plastic handles slowly cutting off the circulation in her extremities. She walked past Santana and Abby sitting in the living room and headed straight for the kitchen where she dumped her bags onto the kitchen island. "I'm back," she called out. A few second later, her mother entered, coming from the back garden, her hand clutching to her chest.

"Oh finally! You took your time! You had me so worried!"

Brittany cocked her head to the side. "I'm fine Mom. You do this every time. Your daughter is pretty strong you know."

Brittany's mom carefully laid her hand on top of Brittany's own on the bench. "I know dear, I know." she said, her words as heavy as her hands.

They bustled around the kitchen, replenishing their cupboards and the refrigerator. Once the kitchen bench was cleared, Brittany headed to the living room and was met with quiet giggles. She sunk into the nearest couch and watched the pair in front of her.

"What are you two up to?"

"We're playing 'Snap'"

"Your mom found us a spare pack of cards," Santana explained.

"Snap!" Abby cried out while Santana was distracted. "I win!"

"No fair!" Santana whined, her smile betraying her words. She collected all the cards and started shuffling through them. "Wanna play?" she asked.

Brittany sat up straight and rubbed her hands together. "Bring it on."

Santana smirked as she dealt out the cards, forming three small piles on the table. She gestured to the cards, and Brittany waited for Abby to pick her pile before reaching over to take the cards closest to Santana. "Dealer's left starts first," Santana said, signaling Brittany to start the game.

They played silently, the tension hanging in the air as they tentatively placed each of their cards on the growing pile.

Five.

King.

Jack.

Eight.

Five.

Ace.

Ten.

Ten-

"Snap!" Three voices rang out in quick succession as a flurry hands flew down in an attempt to land on the cards first.

Abby beamed to herself as she collected her winnings and straightened her stack.

"Jeez, you're fast for a little runt," Santana joked.

Something tugged at Brittany's chest as she noticed how close Santana was getting with her sister. Only the other day was Abby threatening to harm Santana with a stick, but now they were sitting together, joking around, almost like siblings.

It puzzled Brittany. In all honesty, Brittany never imagined that Santana would be good with children. Her stoic persona was nothing more than a façade, and now that she seemed to be more comfortable around the Pierce family, her true identity was finally being revealed.

And Brittany liked it.

A lot.

Abby started off the next round and placed her first card down, Santana and Brittany following in sequence.

Two.

Queen.

Seven.

Nine.

Seven.

Queen.

Queen-

"Snap!"

Brittany felt a sharp pain in her palm and reflexively withdrew her hand. She looked down, and could see a red droplet slowly growing. She wrapped her lips around the wound and the metallic taste flooded her mouth.

"Oh my God, are you alright?" Santana asked as she rushed to grab a tissue. As she reached down, she looked at her fingers and found something creamy and quite out-of-place, wedged underneath her fingernail. "Oh no, don't tell me that's..."

She passed the tissue to Brittany and then raised her hand to eye level. "I'm sorry Brittany."

"I'm fine, it doesn't hurt. Just need to stop the bleeding that's all. Didn't think 'Snap' was such a violent game."

Santana picked Brittany's skin from underneath her fingernail and passed it over to Brittany. "Um...this is yours. I don't know if you want it back."

Brittany took her skin and observed it in wonder, like a scientist scrutinizes subjects underneath a microscope. "It's not like I can stick it back on." She wrapped it up in the tissue she was using to blot the wound.

"I'm so sorry. My fingernails are starting to get long. I haven't cut them in a while."

"Stop apologizing, I'm fine, really." She placed her other hand on Santana's knee because it seemed like the only way to rid Santana of her qualms.

"Long fingernails...guess that makes me a bad lesbian." Santana said with a shy half-smile.

Brittany's heart started pounding, but she couldn't pinpoint the exact reason as to why. She wasn't sure if it was because her heart was just responding to a word which she didn't hear very often, or if there was something else. Something like hope.

In its simplicity, here was a girl, sitting in front of her, asking to be accepted. She didn't need to make such a revelation about herself, yet she felt comfortable enough to tell Brittany, and for that alone, Brittany was touched.

Brittany looked down at her own hands, one palm open and the other pressing a crumpled tissue to stem her blood flow. "My nails are starting to get pretty long as well."

The corner of Santana's mouth quirked, forming the other half of her smile. She said nothing else as she watched Abby collect up the cards, who oblivious to everything that was occurring around her.

Santana's smile did not disappear for the rest of the game.

Even when Abby claimed victory and patted Santana's shoulder in mockery.

* * *

She lifted the mug up to her mouth and paused before taking a small sip. She could feel her face becoming moist as tendrils of steam licked and teased at her cheeks. She hummed in content as hot liquid coated her throat and the warmth quickly spread from inside her body out. Shifting awkwardly with only one free hand, she lifted the fallen blanket back up around her shoulders.

It was nice spending the end of her day outside in the fresh air, soaking in her surroundings in silence. It gave her time to process everything that had happened and also gave her a break. As much as she loved her family, she was never one to stay in one place, and spending so many hours with them was taxing.

She sat back in the lounger and looked up into the night sky, littered with stars. It had been a while since she had seen so many stars in the one place, not including the time she went to the museum with her school to visit the planetarium. Brittany deducted that the best place to see the sky was definitely up in the seclusion of the mountains, away from the light pollution that the city unfortunately provided.

A quite rumble sounded behind her before an even quieter voice spoke. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Brittany turned around and smiled tiredly at Santana. "Please," Brittany's voice croaked as she pulled the other lounger closer to hers. Santana sat down and looked straight up at the sky.

"It's beautiful out here."

"I know. I used to love coming up here all the time when my grandparents were still around. We used to come all the time, before..." Brittany's voice trailed off.

"Before the war," Santana finished.

Brittany didn't nod, but continued to stare up at the sky. "I know there are actual constellations, but I could never picture them. To compensate, I'd sit out here with my grandfather and used to make up shapes myself. It always amused him. I don't think he could see what I saw, but he'd laugh with me anyway. He never laughed at me. Always with me," she could feel herself rambling. "I miss him," she finished rather pathetically.

"He sounds like a great man."

"The greatest."

Brittany took another sip of her hot chocolate which was slowly losing its heat. "Up there. It's a cat wearing a leather jacket and riding a motorcycle. It's part of a biker gang." Brittany pointed to a group of stars as Santana craned her neck to see where Brittany was pointing to.

"Well I see a bee reading a book over there."

Brittany shook her head. "It's reading an e-book. Bees are pretty up-to-date with technology you know. It's all the _buzz_."

Santana turned to face Brittany as she chuckled to herself. "You're a dork."

Brittany shrugged her shoulders as she took another gulp of her drink. She looked back up at the sky and the pair sat in silence, the only noise being the chirping of crickets.

Sensing some movement out of the corner of her eye, Brittany turned her head slightly and saw that Santana's knees were bouncing and she was sitting on her hands. Brittany shifted closer and brought the blanket down from her shoulders and draped half of it over Santana's legs. Santana gave Brittany a small smile. "Thanks."

They settled back into their comfortable silence. Without the blanket around her shoulders, she was starting to feel the chilly night, but she could feel the warmth radiating from the person next to her.

"I'm scared of bugs."

Santana had spoken so softly that Brittany had almost missed it. She wasn't looking at Brittany, and her eyes were still fixed on the stars in the sky.

"I'm sorry?" Brittany asked, confused at her sudden confession.

"I'm scared of all bugs, I don't discriminate."

Brittany still didn't understand why Santana was telling her this all of a sudden, but she nodded slowly. "I guess I'm alright with bugs. They aren't my favourite creature, but they can be pretty cool."

Santana glanced at Brittany and held eye contact for a few heartbeats. "I'm trying to be more open. You want to know more about me, don't you?"

Brittany slowly nodded in response. She didn't want to seem too eager and scare away any courage Santana had about opening up. "Of course."

"And I want to know more about you," Santana continued. "I don't really do this. Talking. I usually keep to myself. But I feel like I owe this to you."

Brittany shook her head and smiled. "You don't owe me anything Santana." She carefully placed her hand on top of Santana's own small hands. She could hear a small intake of breath, but when she didn't pull back, Brittany curled her fingers and held on. She was feeling giddy that Santana had chosen her to be honest to. It was a blessing, one which Brittany didn't feel guilty about. She liked spending time with Santana, and if it meant that she got to hear little bits of Santana's life, she wasn't going to throw that away any time soon.

"So tell me more about your fear of bugs."


	5. Isolation

**Isolation**

The blister on her hand was threatening to burst as she used her body weight to stab the shovel forward into the dirt. She stood up onto the blade of the shovel, digging it deeper into the ground and then using the shovel as a lever, she pushed the handle downwards, causing a giant clump of soil to dislodge itself from the ground. She dropped the shovel and walked over to inspect the dirt. The top part was hard and crusted, a few shades lighter than the softer layers beneath it. She put her already dirty hand into the soil and sifted around, allowing her fingers to search along with her eyes. Finally she saw something of worth; it was a light shade of brown, a stark contrast to the black soil surrounding it. She picked it up and dusted it off, allowing the soil to rain back onto the ground. "I found another one!" Brittany called out to the others. She walked over to the side of the garden patch and placed the potato on top of the growing pile. Alongside the potatoes was an assortment of other vegetables, most of them root vegetables which had been left to grow untended and unmanaged.

Earlier this morning, Brittany's mum had enlisted the help of the girls to see if they could rummage up some food from the garden patch that their grandparents had built many years ago. Since their death, the only times the garden patch had been touched was when Brittany's family had come to visit the cottage, so it was no surprise to Brittany that when she walked out of the back door, she saw the arms of an untamed wildness, reaching out, as if grasping for something to help its escape. The thing was, Brittany wasn't seeing a lot of green and was ready to assume that they wouldn't be able to find anything edible in the growth. It had taken a while, but after some careful digging around, they had collected up vegetables, unfit for a king, but perfectly fine for a family in hiding.

Brittany looked around her. Instead of the earlier mess of dried leaves and yellowing stalks, she was finally seeing more of the ground, uncovered and with a few holes here and there. While Santana, Brittany and her mom dug around, Abby was planting new seeds from her grandparent's seed collection, stored in the darkness of the gardening shed. Her father was at a workbench, sawing up some wood which was to be used as ladders and guides for the vines they were hoping to grow.

There was something strange about the way they were going about their work. Planting new seedlings only meant one thing; they were planning to stay at the cottage for a while. The plants were going to take a while to grow, and Brittany realized that they were going to have to stay if they wanted to harvest them. They weren't returning to their old house for a while, if ever. It was an idea that Brittany had, sadly, gotten used to.

Brittany continued to dig as Santana came over with something small in her hand. She opened up her palm and sitting there was a tiny potato, about the size of her nose. "It's so small," Santana said quietly with a careful softness in her voice.

"It's a baby potato," Brittany said as she leaned in closer to Santana's hand. "Let's plant it back into the soil so it can keep growing." Brittany dug a small hole, not too deep, to allow Santana to replant the potato. She covered it up with some fresh soil and patted the area with the back of the shovel for good luck. "Good night potato. Sweet dreams."

"It's a bit strange to say that to something that we're going to eventually dig up again and eat," Santana commented.

Brittany shrugged her _what-are-you-gonna-do_ shrug and looked at the other vegetables they had dug up. She pushed her chest forward, pulled her shoulders back and stretched. All the digging and bending over was starting to hurt her back and she could hear her spine creak with a sigh. She was about to use her hands to wipe her brow, but took one glance at her black hands and thought better of it. Instead she attempted to wipe off as much dirt as she could onto her pants and then used the bottom of her shirt to wipe the hard work from her face. She then looked over at Santana who was silently giggling and cocked her head in curiosity.

"You got dirt on yourself. Um, here." Santana pointed to her own face, just above her right eyebrow, indicating the offending spot on Brittany's own face.

"Oh, do I?" Brittany lifted her hand towards her face, but at the last moment, swiped her thumb over Santana's forehead, creating a great black streak. "So do you."

Santana squealed and tried to rub the dirt off, but forgetting that her own hands were covered, she had made the situation even worse. Brittany tried her best to muffle her laughter, but quickly stopped when she heard her mother's voice.

"I think that's it. We've got enough vegetables for now, the rest we'll leave until - Brittany Susan Pierce! What have you done to your pants?"

Brittany looked straight down at her pants and saw dried dirt clinging to the front. She tried to pat them, but only successfully dislodged some particles, and not really making much of a difference.

"I said help me dig up food, not roll around in the mud!" her mother continued, her voice raised, but with a hint of amusement.

"I...I just got excited?" Brittany said weakly.

Brittany's mom shook her head. "Go on, go back inside and get cleaned up. We're pretty much done down here. And Santana, you may as well join her. You might need to wash your face."

Brittany looked over at Santana and saw her skin blush under all the dirt. She picked up her shovel and Santana's and walked over to the shed. She carefully hung them off the nails which were lodged into a cork board and then walked back towards the house. Santana stood stooped at the garden tap, rinsing off the dirt from her hands. Brittany joined in, washing her hands over Santana's and allowing the run off to pour into Santana's almost-clean hands.

"Hey! Watch what you're doing!" Santana scolded.

Brittany paused. Was there a hint of anger in her voice? She took her hands out from under the running water and wiped them on a clean part of her pants. Santana turned off the tap with a swift twist and headed towards the back door, back into the house, no acknowledgement to Brittany.

"Please don't get dirt everywhere!" Brittany heard from the garden patch. She took off her shoes and raised the hem of her pants, rolling them up her leg, hoping to minimize the amount of dirt which would inevitably form a trail behind her. She headed up the stairs and into her bedroom, taking out a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt from her suitcase. Before leaving the room, she made a mental note to empty out her suitcase, and make use of the empty cupboards.

The door of the bathroom was closed, and Brittany knocked once, twice, three times, before quietly saying, "Can I come in?"

"I'm washing my face," Santana answered, her voice muffled by the door and what Brittany assumed to be a towel.

"But can I come in?" Brittany repeated.

There was a pause before the door opened, revealing a clean faced Santana, the wisps of hair framing her face dripping with water and sticking out in funny angles. "If you must."

Brittany murmured a quick _thanks _before tiptoeing into the bathroom, draping her clothes across the rim of the bathtub. Brittany looked over at the sink and saw a pool of brown water, and a towel which must have started off as white, but was now of a dirty cream coloring. Santana returned to the sink and pulled out the plug, allowing the water to swirl and drain off. Once the sink was empty, she turned the tap back on and started scrubbing the sides of the sink, ridding of any dirt that remained. She did this all silently, not talking or even looking at Brittany.

"Are you angry at me?" Brittany asked carefully. She knew how Santana worked, and if she asked this in the wrong way, Santana would scare off, like a mouse in a cornfield.

Santana stopped wiping the sink, but did not look up. Brittany could sense the panic in her body, and she wanted to hold her down, but decided not to, allowing Santana to take her time.

"No, why would you think that?"

Brittany shrugged. "I'm sorry for wiping dirt on your face. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Santana started scrubbing at the sink again, though Brittany assumed it to be clean now, and still did not make any eye contact. "It's just dirt. It can't hurt me." She sounded stiff.

"You don't really seem to like it on your face. I'm sorry. It wasn't nice of me. I wouldn't like someone wiping dirt on my face either."

Santana finally turned around, a small smile on her face. "Except when you wipe it on yourself."

Brittany looked at the mirror, behind Santana's head and looked at her own reflection. It seemed that the area above her right eyebrow was not the only place where she had gotten dirt on herself. It was all around her face, like a make-up session gone wrong. Or a make-up session gone right if she happened to be an actress in a play about coal miners. She started to giggle at the sight before her, and soon after, the same noises were escaping from Santana's mouth.

Brittany started stripping herself from her dirt ridden clothes, throwing them into the washing basket. She was standing in the bathroom in only her underwear and reached out for her towel. She sat on top of the rim of the bathtub, the coolness of the porcelain biting at her skin and turned on the tap, letting the water run across her toes. She gasped as the water hit her, not used to the cold temperature, but started scrubbing away, the water quickly turning from a clear fluid to a grimy grey. After washing her legs, she turned off the tap and patted herself dry. She got out of the bathtub and turned around, noticing Santana standing at the sink, her cheeks a vibrant pink. Brittany didn't say anything as she threw on her clean set of clothes and walked over to the sparkling clean sink. "You got to stop staring, my dear," Brittany said.

Santana's face had now turned into an angry shade of red, but she didn't retort.

In reality, Brittany didn't mind if Santana stared. She was very comfortable in her body, and always had been. She used to happily walk around the change room at her school, after sports class, in just her underwear and she had been caught many times dancing around her room, half-dressed by her mom. It was just who she was.

Brittany blocked up the drain again to allow the water to collect, so she could wash her face. She dunked her towel, letting it soak, and then furiously rubbed at the layer of dirt, feeling fresher by the second. She looked up at the mirror, and saw her face, scrubbed raw, but free of soil. She drained the water, wrung her towel and hung it across the rail with the other towels.

"C'mon Santana, let's see what's for lunch!" She hooked her arm into Santana's own and took her out of the bathroom, smirking to herself the whole time.

* * *

"Can you pass me the screwdriver Babygirl?"

Brittany rummaged through the toolbox which was sitting beside her. The clanging of metal-on-metal was all that could be heard for a few seconds while she looked for the tool for the job. Finally she found the screwdriver she was looking for and took a hold of the metal part as she handed the yellow handle to her father.

She watched on as her father tinkled with something inside the old radio that was on the workbench, his brow knotted in concentration. He placed the screwdriver back down and reached for his soldering iron. Brittany was always afraid of using a soldering iron, paranoid that she'd burn something and set the house on fire. She wasn't afraid of many things, but fire just got to her.

After the smell of melting metal drifted away, her father placed the lid of the radio back on, screwing it into place. He took two batteries out of his jacket pocket and put them into the radio.

"You may do the honors." He reached his arm out, holding the radio out towards Brittany. Brittany carefully pressed down on the red on-button and waited. Soon enough, a rasping noise could be heard, like rushing water flowing rapidly down the river. She could hear a few garbled voices, trying to break through the static, but she couldn't make anything out. Her father played with the knob, turning it left and right, trying to pick up a signal. Every so often, the sound would clear, but her father would have to continue turning the knob, as the voices they could hear were incomprehensible to them; they just happened to be speaking another language; the language of the intruders. It was worrying, listening to the radio, their first contact with the outside world, and nothing was familiar to them anymore. How much had the world changed in the few days that she and her family had been in isolation? Was the war really not working in their favor, like their government had assured them on repeated occasions? After what sounded like a lot of static, one voice, though faint, sounded out, and it made Brittany's ears prick. Her father must have done the same, because he stopped turning the dial. "Ssshhh!" he said, bringing his finger to his lips, even though Brittany hadn't said anything.

Brittany's father cautiously turned the dial, meticulously making sure they he went through each frequency very slowly.

"Help..." Brittany heard. Her father let go of the dial, and tried to raise the volume, hoping to get a clearer voice. "...our allies will come and help us in the next few days, but this will not mean a victory for us. The war is not over, and will not be any time soon. Stay prepared and stay weary. But most importantly, stay safe. This is RL, signing off."

Brittany sat in anticipation, waiting for some more voices, but the radio remained silent. She looked over at her father, waiting for an answer, but he too looked confused.

"Must have been the end of their broadcast. At least we've found the channel."

"So what now?" Brittany asked, feeling immensely little.

"We'll listen to the radio every few days, we still have to conserve the batteries we have. Hopefully we'll get updates, and find out when we can go back home. I don't think they broadcast regularly. They're probably in hiding as well. Don't want to get tracked down, you see"

Brittany placed her father's tools back into the toolbox, not really concentrating on her hands. "Do you think it'll be soon?"

Her father looked up and straight into Brittany's eyes, as if he was scanning her. "What will be soon?"

"Home," Brittany said simply.

Her father ran his hands through his hair. He reached over to take a hold of Brittany's hand and rubbed his thumb across the back of it, willing to rub out the uncertainty in her stomach and her heart. "I don't know, but he said the allies are joining us. So it'll be sooner rather than later, Babygirl, sooner rather than later." He leaned over the kissed the top of Brittany's hair, Brittany closing her eyes at the touch. "I've got to go now Brittany, so you stay here and look after everyone." He let go of her hand and picked up the toolbox, headed towards the shed door.

Brittany hopped off the workbench and followed her father. "Where are you going?"

"I've just got to run some errands. Don't worry about me."

"Is this where you go all the time?" Over the last few days, her father had been disappearing, sometimes for hours on end. Each time, her mother had ignored her daughter's questions, giving them jobs to do around the house instead to keep them distracted.

Her father looked back at Brittany, and his face fell. "Yes Brittany. Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough what I'm doing. It'll be for the good of the family. Don't worry about me." he repeated, though Brittany didn't think it was only for her own sake.

He opened up the shed door, allowing Brittany to exit first, and then closed it behind himself.

Brittany rocked forward on her toes, and then back onto her heels before spitting out, "Do you like Santana?"

Her father paused, stumbling in his steps. "Why would you ask that?"

Brittany shrugged. "It's sorta obvious that you hate her."

Brittany's father sighed, his shoulders slumping with the weight of the toolbox in his hand, and with the weight of what he was going to say. "Look, I don't hate her. She seems like a nice person. I just don't like what she's done."

Brittany pictured Santana's face in her mind, her wavy, dark hair, lightly tousled over her shoulders. Her small nose pointed yet round at the same time. Her petite frame as she tried to dig up potatoes in the garden. "What has she done? She didn't steal any potatoes for herself, did she?"

"Brittany, she ran from her parents. She left them in danger. I couldn't trust anyone who would do that. How can you run from the people you love?"

Brittany stayed silent as she thought about what her father had said. It was true, Santana had left her parents behind, yet. "It sounds to me that it was her parents who left her behind."

"I don't know what you mean Brittany."

"Santana told us that her parents were safe in the hospital. She was left home alone all day. Anyone could have intruded her house and gotten her." Brittany stopped talking, the mere thought of Santana's safety in jeopardy making her heart beat faster. "She had no other choice."

Brittany's father closed his eyes and lowered his head. "You might be right Brittany, but please be careful around her. Trust nobody. Things have changed." With that, he stood up straighter and walked off, leaving Brittany behind in the garden, the wind blowing in a cold change, causing her hair to stand-up on end.

* * *

They were seated around the living room coffee table, playing a lazy game of cards, trying to make use of the spare time that they had. Over the past few days, Brittany's mom had given them numerous chores around the house which had eaten up most of their time. She had assured them that it would keep their 'little minds occupied', but Brittany knew her mom was just distracting them from their thoughts. The loneliness of the mountain was starting to get to them. That, and their mom wanted to make the house hospitable; their length of stay was still undetermined and their mom wanted to be prepared for the long haul.

Abby suddenly threw her cards onto the table, causing Brittany and Santana to jump. "I'm bored!" she said, exasperated.

Brittany had to agree that she was starting to get bored as well. They were playing what felt like their fiftieth game of _Snap_ and they were struggling with coming up with other card games. Brittany looked around the room, hoping to find something that could keep them occupied. When she found nothing in particular, she looked up at the ceiling, where all she could see was white paint with some darker cracks, just like the wrinkles in her grandparent's faces. She tried picturing the upper floor for things to do, but nothing came to her.

"Actually, you know what we could do? There one part of the house we haven't explored yet." Brittany raised her hand and pointed to the roof. She watched on as Abby and Santana's eyes followed obediently. "The attic."

Abby clasped her hands together as her eyes bulged with excitement. She jumped up and ran towards the stairs. Brittany stood up and headed to follow her, but Santana stayed seated.

"What are we? The Fantastic Five on a treasure hunt?"

Brittany shook her head as she chuckled. "Don't be silly. There are only three of us." She took Santana's hand and dragged her upstairs, Santana's eyes rolling the entire way.

Once upstairs, Brittany looked up and saw a square-shaped hole with a small golden latch on the trap door. She bent over and grabbed Abby by the waist, lifting her up towards the ceiling.

"Can you reach?"

Abby raised her hand and hooked it through the latch. She pulled down with a small grunt as Brittany lowered her to the ground. The trap door swung open and a small, rickety ladder followed. A cloud of dust erupted from the carpet once the ladder hit the floor. Brittany grabbed onto one of the rungs of the ladder and shook it, checking its sturdiness. Once it seemed stable, she grabbed onto another rung with her other hand and cautiously climbed up the ladder.

Her head poked into the attic, her eyes having to adjust to the darkness. There was a small window on the roof, allowing a minimal amount of sunlight to filter through. She could see dust particles floating in the air, a lot denser than that she was used to seeing.

"Is it alright?" she heard from underneath her. She looked back down the ladder and saw Abby and Santana look up at her in anticipation.

"Yeah, come up." She climbed up the rest of the ladder and into the attic. She walked straight over to the nearest wall, feeling it for the light switch she swore existed. She found the switch behind a tall column of boxes and flicked it on, illuminating the room. Many of the items in this room hadn't seen light in a very long time, and she could almost see the boxes groan as they basked in fluorescent warmth. Soon enough, Abby and Santana had climbed into the attic, their heads constantly turning to take in all the sights around them. Abby soon ran up to one of the boxes and squealed. "Look what I found!" Brittany looked at the box and on its side was the word TOYS in large block- letters. Brittany shook her head. _Of course_, she thought as Abby started sifting through and sorting the toys out.

Brittany looked over to where Santana was looking through a dusty album. She walked over and looked down at the yellowing and faded photos. "Who are these people?" Santana asked.

Brittany shook her head. She didn't recognize anybody. She pointed a man at the back of a photo of what looked like an old pub. "I think that's my grandfather," Brittany said, unsure of herself. The photo wasn't very clear.

Brittany remembered her mother going through these photos when her grandparents had passed away. She had kept the important looking photos and Brittany assumed the ones in Santana's hands were the ones left over. Her suspicions were confirmed by the gaps in the album, breaking up the flow of photos.

Brittany walked over to another column of boxes and pulled down the topmost box. It was smaller than the others and there was no label on the side. She blew against the layer of dust coating the top of the box and then lifted the lid.

There was no real theme to the contents of the box. There seemed to be a whole range of bits and pieces; if anything it was the box of misfit items. She sat down on the floor and placed the box in front of her crossed legs.

She pulled out two small metal objects which looked a lot like egg cups, but after a closer inspection, figured they were ornate candle holders, based by the build-up of wax coating the inside. Brittany used her fingernail and scraped off some of the candle wax, revealing intricate patterns of dragons dancing around the base. She sat them on the ground, one beside the other. She continued rummaging around the box. This time she pulled out a bundle of crinkled envelopes, bound together by a thin piece of string. They were all addressed to the same person; her grandmother. Brittany imagined what the contents of the letters would be. Would it be letters proclaiming her grandfathers love, just like in the movies?

She carefully plucked a letter from the bundle and let her finger run across the slit of the envelope opening. Inside was a single sheet of paper, stains of yellow and brown spotted here and there. The handwriting was scrawled and Brittany couldn't read it very well, but gave it her best shot.

_1968 March 13 _

_To my dearest Eleanor,_

_I hope all is well back home. I am well, though the days are getting longer and more stressful._

_We've has to relocate our position because of some attacks we were not prepared for. We have lost some men, but thus the nature of war. But I assure that I am intact - I am not returning without my two arms and two legs._

_A lot of negotiation has been happening in the past few days between the sides, but things would be easier if we all spoke the same language. We will put across our view and they will put across theirs, none of them relating to the other and we're back to square one._

_I cannot wait until I am home with you and our baby. It saddens me that I am not around while you are pregnant, and I cannot be there to tend to you and support you, like I promised in my wedding vows. But I will be home soon, and you will receive my undivided attention, I promise. Tell our loved ones that I miss them dearly and tell Ralph to set aside a beer and warm dinner for me when I get home._

_I will forever and always be yours,_

_Jack._

Brittany lowered the letter. She knew her grandfather had held an integral position in the army and he had fought in many wars, but reading an actual letter that he had written himself was very different to the stories she had heard from her parents. She wasn't sure which war was occurring during the writing of this letter. She looked at the date, but realized her knowledge of history wasn't all that great.

Brittany reread the letter. They had lost men, yet her grandfather didn't seem fazed. Perhaps he had seen so many of his co-soldiers die in battle that he had become immune to it. That saddened Brittany. She didn't think she would ever want to reach that point in her own life.

What was her grandmother doing during the war? According to the letter, she was pregnant, and judging by the year, probably with her aunt. Did she ever go into hiding, like Brittany was? Brittany guessed she wasn't since the war wasn't on their soil.

She bundled the letters back up and placed them onto the floor next to the candle holders.

She looked back into the box and found something dark at the bottom. She dug around and pulled out another wooden box. The box was shaped like a chest and had small golden feet and gold trimming around the edge. The lid had what looked like an ivory carving, in the shape of a dolphin. She found a small, golden latch and she flicked it open. Inside was an assortment of jewelry pieces, ranging from silver bangles and chains to necklaces and earrings. Most of the pieces looked faded as if they had lost their shine from being kept in the darkness for too long. She dug around and found a golden ring, which did look a lot shiner than most of the other items in the jewelry box. She heard soft footsteps and looked up to see Santana looking down at her.

"What have you found?" she asked as she sat down next to Brittany.

"I think it might have been my grandmother's jewelry box."

Santana picked up a necklace chain and ran it through her fingers. "It's pretty."

Brittany nodded silently and looked at the simple golden ring in her hand. As she looked in the ring she saw some markings on the inside of the ring. She brought the ring closer to her face and tried to make out the markings.

_Fate_.

She wasn't sure whose ring it was. She was sure her grandparents were both buried with their wedding bands.

Santana leaned in and looked at the ring. Brittany turned to look at her. "Fate," Santana read aloud.

"What are you all doing up here?" Brittany looked up and saw her mother's head pop up from the trap door.

Brittany's sister skipped over to her mom, her arms full of the toys she had picked out from the box. "Look Mom, toys!"

Her mom shook her head, similar to what Brittany had done, as she climbed into the room. "Put back the ones you don't want," she said as she pointed to the pile of toys on the floor. The pile really wasn't that small, compared to the collection Abby had in her hands.

Her mom walked around the room, studying her surroundings. She walked over to something covered by a large, heavy rug and lifted the rug carefully, both cautious of what was underneath and cautious of the amount of dust she could potentially throw around. Underneath the rug was an ancient looking sewing table. There was a sewing machine with metal prongs pointing up into the air; Brittany assumed that was where the spools of thread were kept. Her mother inspected the machine slowly and hummed to herself. "Yes, good," was all that she heard. She didn't put the rug back into place and walked over to Brittany. She saw the small jewelry box and mumbled to herself. "Perfect."

Brittany looked down at the box at her feet and then back to her mom. "What's perfect Mom?"

Her mom looked over at Brittany and paused before answering. "Gold is precious Brittany. Everyone is greedy for it. It can either a good or bad thing. Just hope it's good for you."

Brittany had no idea what her mother was talking about. She knew gold was precious but why would it affect Brittany? Why was liking gold a bad thing? Why was her mom being so cryptic?

Her mother clapped her hands. "C'mon Abby, dinner time. We'll go through the attic tomorrow. It looks like it needs a bit of cleaning."

Brittany stood up, not before pocketing the golden ring into her pocket. As much as the attic intrigued her, it had meant more chores tomorrow, and Brittany didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

* * *

The sound of the distant rushing of a river was all that Brittany could hear. As it got louder, she knew she was getting closer to her destination. "Not far now," she called out behind her. Santana was following closely behind, afraid to get left behind and lost. Her cheeks were starting to pink and her forehead was shiny with sweat. They had been climbing the mountain for a while now, the air was becoming thinner as their path became more angular. It was only because of the coverage of the trees that they were not burning up too much.

They reached a clearing where there were fewer trees and they finally got a glimpse of the river, though it was much calmer here. Off to her right, Brittany saw three large rocks, forming a bridge over the river. She walked over towards them and jumped onto the first one.

"Is that safe?" Santana asked, eyeing the rocks with caution.

"I've done this since I was little. Trust me."

With those two words, Santana sighed as she leaped onto the first rock, grabbing onto Brittany as she tried to find a good spot to land her feet. Brittany took her hand and hopped onto the next one, Santana following in step. They jumped onto the last rock and then onto the other side of the river together. Santana turned back to look at the river and then to Brittany. "See, too easy." Brittany said.

Brittany started to skip, pulling Santana along. They had gone through a thicket of trees and then they could see everything. They were at the top of a cliff, looking down into the valley below them. Their vision was spotted with houses here and there, some with their lights turn on, anticipating the darkness that followed sunset.

And the sunset.

Yellows, oranges, reds and purples stretched across the horizon, wrapping the land below it into a giant hug. Brittany could hear the intake of breath from Santana and smiled. She also happened to have the same reaction every time to visited this spot, and this time was no different.

"Welcome to my most favourite place in the word. My grandfather showed me this place when I was younger and I used to come here all the time."

"It's amazing. It's beautiful."

Brittany nodded. "I've never shown anyone this place before. Not even Abby."

Brittany sat down into the grass, her legs stretched out towards the edge of the cliff, and her arms supporting her from behind. Santana copied her, her legs crossed underneath her. "Thanks for showing me," she said quietly.

They sat in silence as they both watched the sun lower itself to sleep. Brittany could hear the calming breaths beside her and the grass was tickling the underside of her legs. For just this moment, Brittany could forget about everything; chores, the war, and being alone.

"Can I ask about your parents?" Brittany asked slowly. She waited for Santana to stiffen beside her, but nothing came. Instead Santana stayed silent. Brittany took it as a sign that she was allowed to proceed. "Are they nice?"

"The nicest. They both work at the hospital. Dad's a surgeon and Mom is the head pharmacist. They spend a lot of their time there. Not because they're forced to, but because they want to help people. It's who they are as people," Santana answered, looking straight ahead.

"But are they nice to you?"

With that question, Santana finally stiffened. She took a deep breath. "Their work personalities are very different to their home personalities. Not that they're mean to me. They just have different perceptions of where their priorities lie. They know how important and how much they're needed at work. Especially at a time like this. They tell me I'm grown up enough to look after myself, and I guess they're sorta right."

Brittany studied Santana and thought about what she had just said. Santana was sixteen, the same age as Brittany. As much as she liked being independent, she still depended a lot on her parents. They were her support system and without them, Brittany didn't think she'd be the person she was today. "Everyone deserves to feel special, especially when it comes from their parents. That includes you Santana."

Santana turned away from the view and looked at Brittany. "I'm afraid they might not think the same way when I get back home. What if they disown me for running away?"

Brittany thought about what her parents would do. Would they disown her for leaving them? She'd like to think that they wouldn't, but Brittany wasn't so sure. "I'm not going to give you false hope and say that they'll definitely greet you with welcoming arms, but I can promise you this: you're always welcome with us. Always."

"But what about your dad?" Santana asked. "I don't think he likes me."

Brittany sighed and thought about her earlier conversation with her father. "He does like you. It's just taking him a while to understand you. Don't worry about him. He'll warm up to you in no time. He'll find out just how awesome you are."

"And if he doesn't?"

Brittany looked out into the darkening sky and ran her hands through her hair. "Santana, I'm always going to be there for you. I'm not going to let anything hurt you." A thought occurred to her and she held out her littlest finger.

Santana studied her finger and then looped her own around it. Santana's finger was smaller than Brittany's and she could feel her warmth as she wrapped her own finger around it. "Pinky promise."

They sat together for a few more minutes, their fingers locked in a tight embrace. The sky was losing its fierce orange color and a deep purple was spreading, signalling the night's arrival. The evening bugs had come out and were starting to hover around the girls, their wings beating against their bare arms like wisps of the wind.

"C'mon," Brittany said. "It's getting late." She stood up and helped Santana to her feet. She patted off the grass that had stuck to her pants, and in doing so, felt something hard in her pockets. She put her hand in her pocket and felt the coolness of a polished metal band. She put the tip of her finger into the loop and felt a word etched on the inside. She pressed her finger into the ring, the word changing the natural contours of her fingerprints.

"We'll come back here, right?" Santana asked, " To watch the sunrise instead?"

Brittany took one last look at the sinking sun. "Someday," Brittany said, hopeful.

* * *

**A/N: I think this is the first time I've left an author's note for this fic, so hi to everyone! **  
**Glee has been a bit of a bummer lately for Brittana fans, but I just wanted to say that I plan on finishing this fic, because it's close to my heart (I'll let you guys know why soon).**  
**Right now, we've reached the end of the calm, and future chapters will get a bit more action happening. Ratings may change, and if I need to warn you guys about anything, I'll do so before the start of the chapter.**  
**Also, I don't do this often, but I'd love to get a bit more feedback on this story, just because I'd love to improve, and write this story in the best way possible (as I said, it's important to me).**  
**Thanks!**


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